


All He Holds Dear

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-06-30
Updated: 1999-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-11 01:44:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11138718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived atDue South Archive. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onDue South Archive collection profile.





	All He Holds Dear

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).
    
    
    Title: All He Holds Dear
    Rating: PG-13 for violence
    Pairings: M/F Fraser/Thatcher
    Warning: this is a torture story, death of a minor character
    Author: Kateri Marie
    EMail:
    
    Disclaimer: I just borrowed them for a while to play. I didn't hurt em
    (much ;)) I promise! 
    
    Any comments etc. welcome and accepted. In other words, talk to me!!
    
    I guess we'll get to the story now....
    
    maybe...
    
    All He Holds Dear
    
    	"Good night Fraser." Inspector Thatcher said formally, without looking
    at him, fighting with herself to keep from asking where he'd been. "Don't
    forget to lock up." 	"No, sir. Have a nice evening ma'am." Fraser responded
    as he stood in strict attention at the door following their evening ritual.
    It was one of the constants of their universe. Every night at exactly
    seven o'clock, she would leave and say exactly what she just had and
    he would respond exactly as he had. Then the two would stare at each
    other in the darkness for a long moment, only able to see the others
    eyes, each wanting to say so much more. And then the moment would pass,
    she would leave, and he would be alone. 	It wasn't so bad. He knew that.
    It could be so much worse. They were learning now. She had called him
    Ben the other day. She had been worried when he'd fallen off a moving
    bus. His heart thrilled at the thought. But she was the superior officer;
    he would do nothing to make her uncomfortable or guilty. So they repeated
    the ritual. 	After locking up the consulate as he did every night, Fraser
    returned to his small office and removed his red tunic with a sigh. At
    least I just got here as she was leaving and she couldn't see the bruise
    on my head. He glanced at his calendar and noted with pleasure that his
    sister Maggie was supposed to call him the next day. He looked forward
    to her bi-weekly calls with pleasure seeing that she was after all way
    up North in the Yukon. He missed her; though Fraser had just found her
    seven months ago, already he had come to care for her greatly. The two
    had grown quite close, though it had been awkward at first; they'd both
    been alone for so long. 	Fraser sighed as he hung his coat in the small
    closet. He was tired. Ray and he had spent their day chasing down a disgusting
    man who'd been selling illegal arms over the American-Canadian border.
    It had been a long chase culminating in a rather haggard car ride for
    Fraser and Dief, who had ended up being sentenced to the vet's for the
    rest of the week. Ben's head was still aching from the impact with the
    pavement and his back hurt dreadfully. Ray had wanted him to go see a
    doctor about his head; he would have insisted if he'd realized that Fraser
    had hit his back as well. His back. Fraser couldn't stop his thoughts
    from wandering. His back hurt mainly because he'd agitated the bullet
    lodged in his spine when he fell. But thoughts of that bullet brought
    him to other thoughts he didn't want to entertain this night. They hurt
    so much more... 	It was Ray's bullet. The real Ray's. He had shot Fraser
    by accident so long ago... was it really almost two years ago...? Ray...
    Fraser missed the smartly dressed, smart alecky cop. They'd been so close.
    The closest thing Fraser had ever had to a brother. Stan/Ray and he were
    close, becoming great friends and good partners, but sometimes, just
    after Ray had left, he'd felt so alone... He'd just wanted to curl up
    in a ball and give up. A few tears trickled down his face as he thought
    of all those who'd gone, those who'd left him. He didn't want to think
    of his father and mother's murders like that. He didn't want to think
    of Ray's assignment like that. But sometimes, on nights like these, when
    he was tired and lonely, he couldn't help it. So many... The thought
    trailed off as weariness claimed the Mountie. But the moonlight that
    shone through the small window glinted off the tears that refused to
    leave his cheeks. 
    
    	When the first morning sunbeams glinted through his window, Constable
    Benton Fraser was up and ready for work. He was always up by the dawn,
    partially out of habit, and partially due to the nightmares that plagued
    his sleep. They came every night. Relentless in their persistence and
    their fury. But he had gotten used to them; they had come for so long
    now. Benton pushed the thoughts of his nightmares from his mind and leaned
    down to brush some lint off his boots. 	His pile of paperwork from the
    adventure of the day before was done and he gingerly took up the pile
    and stepped into the hallway. The bruise that had formed above his left
    eye shone slightly as he carefully walked towards Inspector Thatcher's
    office and paused at the door, trying to get a hand free enough to push
    down the gold handle. The consulate's front door opened and he nearly
    dropped his papers in surprise. "Good morning Inspector." He said as
    he precariously balanced the pile of teetering papers. 	"Constable Fraser
    what...?" Her voice trailed off as she rushed over to her office door.
    With some difficulty resulting in her arched across the doorway while
    Fraser walked underneath her arched form, Inspector Thatcher managed
    to hold the door open for him as he went to enter her office. "I am assuming
    that stack is for me?" 	"Uh yes ma'am." Benton was able to get out as
    he scrunched himself into the office and laid the pile on her desk. "My
    report. In triplicate like you requested." He pulled himself to attention
    at her desk as she glared down at the papers, regretting the order. 
    "And the bruise?" She was getting quite good at hiding the concern in
    her voice. He certainly was giving her plenty of practice. 	"The result
    of an unfortunate mishap involving..." He blushed and trailed off, "It's
    all in my report ma'am." 	"Thank you Constable." She forced back a groan
    at the thought of having to read and check over so long of a report.
    Fraser was thorough; she had to give him that. And his reports were entertaining
    if nothing else. "You can return to your duties." She said as she plopped
    into the desk chair and picked up the first page of the extensive report.
    "Thank you sir." The heavy walnut doors closed behind him.
    
    	"Good morning. Canadian consulate. Constable Benton Fraser speaking."
    Ben answered the phone with his usual cheerful politeness as he looked
    at an envelope that had just been delivered by courier. Turnbull was
    out with a bad case of the flu and so Benton was doing double duty for
    a few days, which included mail and answering the phone. "I'm sorry?"
    His voice was suddenly neutral and his hands came to a halt over the
    papers. "I don't understand." The words came out with painful slowness
    as he listened intently to the voice three thousand miles away. 	"A Mountie
    was killed four nights ago. A Constable Margaret Mackenzie. Killer was
    male and alone but that's about all we know. They found an airline receipt
    at the scene. The suspect is heading your way under the name Bert McDonnell.
    Right after the report was filed the director called down and said the
    case was to be assigned to you. Everything's your call. Your superior
    will be informed as soon as we are done." 	"Yes sir." Fraser said mechanically,
    habit taking over. He had met the director several times. He was one
    of the few men who knew of Fraser's relationship to Maggie Mackenzie.
    Outside of Inspector Thatcher, Turnbull, and the director, no one in
    the RCMP knew that Maggie Mackenzie was his sister. 	"We've sent you
    photos of the crime scene and all the documents we've gathered to date.
    They should be arriving by courier any time now." Again habit kicked
    in, "Thank you kindly." 
    "Get this guy Constable. No one kills a Mountie." 
    "I'll get him." Benton swore with the first hint of feeling in the conversation.
    A moment later a dial tone resounded against his eardrum and he replaced
    the receiver gently in its cradle. He stared down at the envelope he
    still held in his hand and did nothing for a moment. He couldn't believe
    it. Against his will, Benton's hands broke the RCMP seal and drew out
    the papers within. Flat blue eyes glanced over the report that lay on
    top of the small pile but he hastened onto the bottom of the pile - the
    photographs. The crime scene photographers had been thorough; they were
    Mounties after all. His eyes landed upon the first picture and he gasped
    so sharply he felt his ribs twinge in response. 	"Oh my Lord..." his
    voice trailed off before it could get choked off by the lump that formed
    in his throat. He put the pictures down and closed his eyes for a moment,
    unable to look at the horror. He would be strong. He would not give in.
    The thoughts chanted like a mantra through his head. The killer was still
    out there. As soon as that thought graced his mind the rage boiled up.
    Rage he hadn't felt since his father had been murdered boiled up in his
    heart. His eyes hardened to the hearts of glaciers and he glanced back
    at the pictures once more, looking for any clue as to the monster who
    had done this. He scanned the pictures, memorizing every little bit in
    case there was something important in them, until he saw something that
    made his heart stop in his chest - a badge. It was a RCMP badge, that
    much he could tell just by looking. It was lying on Maggie's body. Benton's
    brow furrowed. Maggie wouldn't have been wearing her badge, she was in
    civilian clothes - it was obviously her day off. He reached into his
    desk and drew out the magnifying glass that lay in the drawer and looked
    down at the small silver item. The small badge number was blurred but
    he could just barely make it out - 29103. The magnifying glass dropped
    to the desk with a small thud. "Granger." Fraser growled and for one
    moment such fury showed on his face that had anyone been there to see
    it, they would have run in fear. But he was no rookie; he was a Fraser,
    the strongest Scottish stock in Canada. The emotions vanished under his
    iron control. Just in time. "Constable Fraser." Meg's voice rang out
    in the hall from behind him. "In my office, now." Like a solid tin soldier,
    Fraser marched into her office, knowing exactly why she wanted to see
    him. He stood in stiff attention at her desk; the rage within him buried
    deep inside, while she paced behind her desk. "Would you care to tell
    me what's going on, Constable?" She was mad, he could tell, but something
    else was in her voice, something he was afraid to identify. "Would you
    care to tell me why you have been assigned to a special case and why
    I am allowed to know only what you tell me?" Not mad, Fraser thought,
    infuriated. "I'm afraid I can't sir." If he told her what was going on
    he'd break down. Control and will could only last so long, could only
    go so far. She looked at him, hating this feeling of helplessness, hating
    that the only reason for this secrecy could be a very large amount of
    danger. "Benton..." Her voice was very low and his eyes widened at the
    sound of his name. "Why you?" Why is it always you put in danger? You
    who has to take the risks? His eyes softened slightly for her and she
    could see the torrent of emotions surging just below the surface. "There
    is a... criminal in Chicago. They want me to catch him and bring him
    in." He spoke simply, and she could hear the restraint in his voice.
    "Why the secrecy?" She saw the look in his eyes change and threw up her
    hands. "All right then tell me why they chose you. Why not... Turnbull..."
    Fraser's eyebrow shot up, "or me?" She ended lamely. "Because I know
    him." Fraser's voice was emotionless. Meg looked at him, the pleading
    in her eyes tearing at his heart. He couldn't tell her what had happened.
    But he couldn't just leave it at that. "The perpetrator is one Paul Granger."
    "The crooked statesman?" Meg asked as she calmed and sat in her chair.
    Finally he was sharing with her. It was something at least. "Yes, ma'am.
    I arrested him up in the Territories for killing several men, two of
    them Mounties." "Your partner." Meg whispered quietly but he did not
    respond.
    "I tracked him for a month and a half then. I know him better than anyone
    alive." His voice was placid. "I can catch him. I WILL catch him." She
    had never heard his voice so passionate as it was on that one word. "All
    right. But I want you to report in at least once a day." He nodded stoically.
    "And if you need us for anything... call. You have the entire resources
    of the consulate at your disposal." "Thank you ma'am. Anything else,
    sir?" He was still standing at attention damn him. Yes, she thought vehemently,
    let me hold onto you and never let you go. Let me order you to give this
    to someone else. There's something in your eyes that frightens me; I
    don't want to see you hurt. Let me cry all over that red serge and if
    you call me sir or ma'am again I may become violent. "No, Constable.
    That will be all. Good luck." "Thank you Inspector." He saluted with
    careful precision and walked out of her office. As soon as the door shut
    behind him, Meg lowered her head into her hands and did something she
    hadn't done in years - she prayed. 
    
    Fraser paused outside her door, wanting to tell her more, needing her
    arms around him in comfort. No. He ordered himself sternly. You can't
    do that to her. No. He grabbed his Stetson off the desk and tucked the
    file in his red serge as he walked out the door. His face was like chiseled
    stone and Meg, glancing out from her office window, trembled as she saw
    it. "God help him." She whispered and turned back to her desk. All she
    could do was wait. 
    
    "Good morning Fraser." Francesca Vecchio said as she sidled up to Fraser
    in her short tight black skirt and regulation blue shirt. "Good morning
    Francesca." Fraser said robotically as he walked on towards Ray's desk.
    Francesca stopped in confusion and looked at him strangely as he walked
    on past her but Fraser didn't even notice. He didn't blush, he didn't
    stammer, he didn't try to avoid her. It was like he'd barely noticed
    she was there. There was a slackness to his face she knew wasn't like
    him. Her heart stopped in her chest as she recognized the look. It was
    so like his face after that nightmare... When he was trying to be strong
    so she wouldn't see the fear or the pain. Fraser walked on towards Ray's
    empty desk and Frannie ran towards her phone. Her fingers were trembling
    as she pushed the numbers that connected her with the holding cells downstairs.
    "What do you want? I'm kinda in the middle of something here." Ray's
    sarcastic voice rang over the line. "Ray." Something in Francesca's voice
    made Ray stop glaring at the crooks he'd been grilling and turn towards
    the phone. "Frannie? What's up?" "Fraser's here, Ray. He's standing besides
    your desk."
    Ray's brow wrinkled in annoyance and he raked a hand through the blond
    crew cut, "Yeah so tell him I'll be done here in about an hour." "Ray."
    Francesca's voice was firm. "Come up here now."
    Now Ray was getting worried. "What's going on Frannie?"
    "Just come up now, Ray."
    Screw worried, he was downright scared. "What's going on Frannie? Why's
    Fraser here? Is he all right?" "I don't know Ray." The worry was evident
    in her voice now. "But something's wrong. Something's really wrong."
    "I'll be right up. Don't let him leave." Ray hung up the phone and headed
    out of the room running. Ray burst into the squad room and scanned the
    room quickly, not caring that some detectives were glancing at him with
    concern. Fraser was hard to miss, the broad back of red serge stood out
    no matter where Fraser was. But as Ray got nearer he wasn't sure what
    worried him more - the fact that Fraser was at his desk in a military
    'at ease' position or the total lack of emotion on the man's face. Fraser
    was hard to read normally but there was always at least something on
    his face. Now... nothing. The man's face might as well have been made
    of stone. And something in Ray's heart quailed at the sight. "Fraser?"
    "Hello, Ray." Even Fraser's voice was flat, completely without emotion.
    "What's up? How's the head?" Ray asked, fighting to act normally, to
    not let Fraser see how scared he was. Perching on the desk, Ray grabbed
    a pen to busy his hands as he scrutinized carefully the dark bruise on
    Fraser's forehead. "I need a favor Ray." Fraser looked into Ray's molten
    hazel eyes but Ray could see nothing but ice. "No problem. What?" The
    words escaped him quickly before he could think, his worry overriding
    his sense. He hoped Fraser wouldn't notice how odd it was that he wasn't
    arguing. Hah! Fraser's the most observant person on the planet! Better
    start thinking up an excuse... But Fraser didn't seem to notice. As soon
    as Ray had agreed, Fraser grabbed a pen and copied down from memory a
    name on one of Ray's post-it notes. "I need you to check on a name for
    me." "Sure Fraser." a bewildered Ray took a glance at the slip Fraser
    handed him and walked over to Francesca's desk as she thrust her nose
    back into a book. "Hey Frannie!" He called, as if he didn't know she'd
    been watching them all along. "Check out this guy for me will ya - one
    Bert McDonnell." As he perched over her shoulder he handed her the slip
    with a sidelong glance at Fraser. The Mountie was staring at the computer
    screen like it was the difference between life and death for him. Damn
    Ice Queen. Ray thought as he came up with an answer for Fraser's weird
    behavior. But even when she does something that hurts him, he doesn't
    act like... like this! His mind argued at him and the worry creases deepened.
    "Here he is." At Frannie's words, Fraser straightened and his eyes bored
    into the screen like he wanted to burn the words there on his mind. "He's
    got a small sheet. Robbery. And it's almost twenty years old at that.
    Why you looking for him, Fraser?" "Not important." Fraser said, surprising
    both Ray and Frannie with his curtness. "Do you have anything else, Francesca?"
    "Um. Yes." She said slowly, her dark eyes troubled as she turned back
    to the computer. "A couple accomplices." "May I have a printout of their
    names?" Fraser asked softly, his voice flat and yet somehow intense.
    There was something surging in him, just below the surface. "Uh, Fraser..."
    Frannie was shocked that Fraser didn't realize that she couldn't do that
    just for him. Not without approval. Or maybe he just doesn't care. She
    was about to tell him that she couldn't do it when Ray touched her shoulder
    and nodded. He would take responsibility for it. A minute later, Frannie
    handed Fraser the list, "Here ya go." "Thank you kindly, Francesca."
    Fraser said evenly, more out of habit than anything else. Ray exchanged
    a glance with Frannie and then watched Fraser as he left the squad room.
    "Hey Fraser, wait up!" Ray called, jogging slightly to catch up with
    his friend. He was sick of this normal charade, "What's going on?" "I
    can't tell you Ray." 
    Ray flinched as if Fraser had punched him. "Come on Fraser. I thought
    we were friends." Partners. Some part of the glacial wall Fraser had
    put up melted and as he looked at Ray, the turmoil in his eyes made Ray
    gasp. "We are friends Ray. We're partners too. But I can't tell you anything
    yet. Please, try to understand." A pleading note that Ray had never heard
    before was in Fraser's voice and Ray nodded slowly. "All right, Fraser.
    You don't have to tell me a thing. But I'm coming with you. I'm not letting
    you go traipsing around the city on your own. Who knows what kind of
    trouble you could get into!" While he spoke, Ray kept careful watch on
    Fraser's face, half-afraid he would deny him even this. But Fraser's
    face didn't change though Ray thought he saw a shade of relief tinge
    his eyes. "As you wish Ray." Together they turned towards the parking
    lot. "You will tell me though, right Fraser? When you can?" Ray asked,
    still trying to overcome the fear that had sparked within him. He understood
    his friend's need to keep some things inside but this was different.
    Fraser was really hurting and it hurt Ray to see him in pain. Maggie.
    Oh Maggie. I want to tell you Ray but if I do I won't make it. I won't
    be able to go on. I'm not that strong. Fraser nodded and with hoarse
    voice he said, "When I can." "All right then." Ray would have smiled
    if he hadn't seen the pain flash on his friend's face. "Where to?" He
    opened the door to the GTO and climbed in. Fraser looked down at the
    sheet, as Ray pulled out into the street, his face once again hard. "We're
    looking for a man called Trent Cannistan. An..." "arms fence." Ray interrupted.
    "Yeah. I rattled him a few times when I was in Vice. He hangs out at
    the Grinder, a..." "dance club on 54th and Trenton." Fraser finished
    for him. "Which would be..." "in the other direction. Oh yea, a field
    trip to one of the seediest joints in the city." Ray finished as he swung
    the black car around. A chorus of angry car horns drowned out his next
    question, "How did you know about that place?" "Just drive Ray."
    
    The sun was setting when they pulled up in front of the Grinder. For
    once Fraser didn't make a comment about the illegal parking as he practically
    flew down the stairs to the underground dance club. Ray forced the worry
    in him down as he ran after the Mountie, hoping he wouldn't get himself
    killed before he caught up. Inside, the club was already packed tight
    with the early bird crowd. Friday nighters were out in force already.
    The door slammed open and the music screeched to a stop as Fraser stepped
    forward. The light seemed to shine around the Mountie who stood tall
    in the doorway. His voice echoed throughout the room, "We're looking
    for a Mr. Trent Cannistan. If you would kindly come to us, it would save
    a good deal of trouble." A man darted through the crowd and hopped onto
    the back stairwell just as Ray entered the club. "Ray! Go around!" Fraser
    shouted as he climbed up the rope of beads that hung to his left. As
    Ray ran back outside, Fraser grabbed onto one of the strings connecting
    to the disco ball hanging in the center of the room. The room watched
    in shock as Fraser slid down the string, ramming into the ball and then
    taking the ball with him as the momentum carried him over to the stairwell.
    The crowd applauded as Fraser landed on the top of the stairwell but
    he paid them no attention as he took off running. "We just want to ask
    you some questions." He called out to the man's fleeing figure as the
    chase continued onto the roof. You're not the one I'm after. He was going
    to lose him. No. Fraser pushed out the little extra bit of speed that
    he'd been holding back and shot forward just as Ray sprang out in front
    of the man from behind a large vent, gun drawn. "Freeze!" The man froze
    in his tracks, hands in the air. "I haven't done nutin'. You got nutin'
    on me." "If you would listen, Mr. Cannistan," Ray began in annoyance,
    "you would have heard that we just want to talk with you." "I don't know
    anything." the slimy man whined.
    Fraser had had enough. With a dangerous look in his eyes and the bruise
    above his left eye glaring in the wan light, he pinned the man to the
    vent with a glance. "Let me clarify for you. My friend here is a police
    officer. You are a known associate of one Bert McDonnell. He's back in
    town and you are going to tell me where he is." Ray gaped as Fraser's
    hard voice seemed to echo in his skull. This wasn't like his friend at
    all. "I haven't seen him!" The bum whimpered, withering under Fraser's
    powerful glare and the black stare of Ray's gun. "Fraser." Ray said softly
    as Fraser took another step forward.
    The man looked at Fraser and shook with pure fear. Something in the man's
    eyes got through the wall and Fraser backed off slightly, ashamed of
    himself. "I don't know." Trent blubbered. "I truly don't know." "Yeah,"
    Ray said reaching into his jacket, "well if you do find out anything,
    give me a call." He handed the man a card. "Whatever you say." Trent
    stammered, taking the card, never letting his eyes stray from Fraser.
    "Get out of here." Ray growled at the man, who promptly ran out of sight.
    He was looking at Fraser too, noticing the guilty shades on his friend's
    face. "Fraser?" Fraser's eyes closed for a moment as he forced his emotions
    back down where they belonged. Then, when he was sure nothing would show,
    he spoke, "My apologies Ray. I was very much out of line." "No problem
    Fraser." Ray said, unable to keep the worry out of his voice any longer.
    "It's good to know you're human after all." Barely had the words gotten
    out of his mouth when a conversation he'd had with the real Ray Vecchio
    the night before he'd gone undercover floated through his mind. The two
    had met, briefly, before their worlds had fallen apart. "This guy can't
    be human." Stan had said after reviewing the cases that Ray and Fraser
    had solved together. Ray had looked at him with pain and sadness in his
    dark eyes and said in a low voice, "He is definitely human. Very human."
    And Stan could hear the thought echoing through his mind, More so than
    you will ever know. Stan had learned, as the Mountie called him Ray and
    called him friend, just how little he'd known at the time. Vecchio's
    last words to him: "Take care of him." "Ray?" Fraser asked softly, giving
    his friend a concerned glance. He might be absorbed in Maggie's murder
    but he was not going to neglect his friend. "I'm fine Fraser." Ray said
    as he shook his head slightly to rid it of the voice. "Let's go check
    those other names. Rattle the tree..." "See what falls out." Fraser finished
    the phrase with something close to a smile. I will find him Maggie. WE
    will find him. 
    
    "Bert McDonnell." Ray repeated slowly with menace in his voice. 
    "Ah yeah. I knew him. Pulled a job with him some fifteen, twenty years
    back." The greasy man said as he wiped the engine oil off his hands.
    "Heard from him recently?" Ray asked as Fraser looked around the garage
    with sharp eyes. He was hoping for a clue. Any clue. He would grab hold
    of any straw at the moment. "Nope. No reason to. Even back when we did
    that job I stayed as far from him as I could. He's nuts." The man said
    as he leaned against the wall. "What happened to him anyway?" "He became
    a politician." Fraser said flatly as he joined the two men. Ray looked
    at him in inquiry but Fraser gave an almost imperceptible shake of his
    head. There'd been nothing amiss, not even a screwdriver out of place.
    "Hah!" the man laughed still musing over Fraser's last remark. "Figures.
    See you fellows around." He said as the two men turned away and strode
    out the door. "Two down." Ray said grimly as the two men slid back into
    the GTO. "Two to go." Fraser replied, steely determination in his voice.
    
    "Hang it all! That's the third one who claims not to have seen or heard
    from Bert McDonnell." Ray's voice was angry as he slammed one palm against
    the steering wheel of the GTO. He did not like being balked. "This does
    seem to be proving most... infuriating." Fraser said tightly. The rage
    and fury had grown exponentially with each man they'd seen. This bastard
    couldn't get away. He'd killed his sister! And yet if they didn't get
    a lead soon, he would. Ray recognized the tightness in Fraser's voice.
    It was the tightness that was there when Ray asked some question about
    Victoria or Fraser's past, the tightness that got in his voice when he
    talked about the real Ray; it was the tightness of things that hurt.
    "There's still one more name left." "Yes." Fraser agreed solemnly. "One
    more." If this one didn't know anything Fraser didn't know what he'd
    do. Granger couldn't be allowed to escape but how was he to find one
    man in a city of thousands. Strong fingers massaged his forehead, like
    he always did when he was upset, carefully avoiding the bruise, and the
    gesture was not lost on Ray. "We'll find this guy, Fraser." Ray said,
    trying to ease the strain of his friend's burden, as he pulled the GTO
    out into traffic. "That's a promise." "Thank you Ray." Benton said as
    he looked over at his friend. "You didn't need to do all this." "You're
    my friend Fraser." Ray butted in, not moving his eyes from the road.
    "The best friend I've ever had, actually. And you're my partner. I haven't
    had too many friends and you're the only partner I actually wanted to
    stay with. That's worth something to me. It's worth a lot." "Thank you
    Ray." Fraser said, very softly. 
    
    "I'm telling you I haven't heard from him!" A fair-haired woman screeched
    as she ran into the wall she'd backed up against. "Ma'am," Fraser began
    politely but Ray could hear the tightness was back in his voice. "You
    were his girlfriend and his getaway driver. Are you sure you have not
    heard from Bert McDonnell recently?" His eyes were swirling, torrents
    of emotions that couldn't be discerned, and the bruise seemed to darken.
    But no matter how desperate it got, Fraser would cling to that image
    of strength. It was perhaps the only thing between him and the rage within.
    "I haven't seen him! I don't want to see him! That bum cost me twelve
    years of my life! If he comes near me again I'll rip out his spine and
    shove it down his throat." Her words were passionate and even Ray at
    his most cynical would not doubt their meaning. Thick, heavy, silence
    followed her words. A glance over at Fraser made Ray do a double take
    - the man was standing completely still, his face gone slack like a man
    drowning. The bruise stood out, a mark of purple against his white face.
    I've got to get him out of here. "Thank you for your co-operation, Miss
    Aberstein." Ray said as he laid a hand on Fraser's still arm. Fraser
    moved like a robot, following Ray out to the car like a man in shock.
    Ignoring most of the traffic laws completely, Ray sped through the dark
    night. We've got to talk. Someplace where we won't be bothered.  Fraser
    didn't move a muscle, not even when Ray told him they were at Ray's apartment.
    Like a child, Fraser allowed himself to be led up the stairs and into
    the spacious four-room apartment. Ray closed the door with a twist of
    the lock and turned to slowly face his friend. "I know, I wasn't going
    to push but Fraser, you've got to let someone in. Whatever's going on
    is killing you. Let me help. Why... what did this guy do to you?" The
    ice that had formed around Fraser's heart began to crack. He couldn't
    hold it off any longer. A tear fell from one eye but he paid it no heed
    as he began to pace, trying to ease the anger before he lost control.
    But the thoughts wouldn't stop running through his head. He's going to
    get away. Maggie. Hideous death. Didn't deserve it. Was after you. He
    wanted you. Why didn't he just come here? Torture. She paid the price
    for your neglect. He's going to get away. "Isn't fair." Fraser muttered
    as he pressed his hands to his throbbing head. "Didn't deserve. He was
    after me! Can't get away." Ray wasn't sure what was going on but he didn't
    like the looks of it. The tear that had escaped Fraser's iron will rattled
    him and at the disjointed mumblings that escaped his friend's lips he
    stepped forward, "Fraser. It's okay. We'll get him. Don't worry. It'll
    be all right." "No, it won't!" Fraser cried, his anger boiling to the
    point where he could no longer contain it. He had to strike out - at
    something, anything. But the only thing around was Ray. He couldn't.
    With a cry like that of a wounded animal, Fraser spun where he stood
    and a great crash filled the air as he buried his fist in the wall. Now
    that the ice was cracked and split there was no stopping the tears and
    the sobs that racked his strong frame. Not even bothering to take his
    arm out of the plaster in which it was buried, Fraser leaned his forehead
    against the cool wall and let the tears fall free. It was unbearable
    for Ray to see - this man who'd always shown such strength, at last showing
    his heart... in pieces. "Fraser." He said ever so softly, moving closer
    to put a hand on his friend's shoulder. Fraser's answering whisper was
    so low, Ray almost missed it, "help me." The words were so tiny, the
    voice so small, so pained, that Ray thought for a moment that it was
    his imagination. But his imagination could never come up with something
    so horrible as this. "Come on Fraser." It came out hoarse but the meaning
    was clear as Ray gently drew Fraser's bloodied hand out of the wall.
    He guided Fraser to the couch and forced him to sit down. "Sit down."
    He ordered softly as he turned to grab some first aid supplies. The salty
    tears were still falling down Fraser's cheeks when Ray knelt in front
    of him, laying some things on the nearby table. He hadn't spent so much
    time with Fraser for nothing - Ray lifted Fraser's wounded hand and competently
    dabbed some hydrogen - peroxide on the multitude of cuts. "Talk to me
    Fraser." Ray said, his voice tinged with frustration. "Tell me what's
    going on. This is personal. Why?" Fraser wouldn't look him in the eyes;
    instead, he stared out the window at the dark stormy night. The blond
    head beside him hung low as Ray gently wrapped the bandage around Benton's
    knuckles, thinking his friend would tell him nothing even then. "His
    real name is Paul Granger." Fraser's low voice took Ray by surprise.
    "He was hiding as a statesman in Canada. I arrested him in the Territories
    seven years ago." "For what?" Ray asked, knowing there had to be more.
    "Primary charge was murder. He killed six people; two of them were RCMP.
    I tracked him for 47 days before catching him and bringing him in." "Woh."
    Ray stared. This guy must really be nuts if it took Superman here a month
    and a half to catch him. "So this guy's escaped?" It still didn't make
    sense. If a gumba escaped, Fraser would be determined not... tortured.
    "Yes, he escaped." Benton said in a thick voice, still focused on the
    storm outside. "And he killed... a Mountie up north. He left the badge
    of one of the Mounties he killed before on the body." Fraser took a deep
    breath. "He left it for me. So I'd know it was him." Oh no. Ray felt
    sick. "You can't blame yourself Fraser."
    Blue eyes finally turned and bore into Ray, "How did you come to that
    conclusion? He wants me. He did it to tell me he was coming. It was all
    my fault." Ray shivered; he'd never heard such a degree of self-loathing
    in Fraser's voice. Damn it all! He brought the guy in! Of course he'll
    blame himself. Ray cut off the thoughts ruthlessly. "Come on buddy."
    He guided Fraser to his feet. "Get some sleep. You're bunking here tonight."
    There was no way he was going to let Fraser leave. Not with some wacko
    out to kill him. Fraser didn't respond, he just grabbed the sleeping
    bag Ray handed him and laid it out on the floor. He was tired, even the
    partial admission had drained what was left of his strength. He wasn't
    the only one; Ray was not used to being the strong one, it took his toll
    on him. The two men were barely in their respective spots, Fraser on
    the floor and Ray in the bed, when their eyes shut and silence reigned
    in the room. 
    
    The night was more than half spent when Ray awoke. At first he didn't
    know why he had woken up; normally he slept like the dead. Then he looked
    down to the floor. For as long as Ray had known him, outside of the hospital,
    Ray could never remember seeing Fraser sleep. He knew the Mountie did
    and he knew he went to bed early and woke before the dawn, but never
    before had he actually seen him sleep. Now his first glimpse was almost
    laughable in some horrific way. Even in sleep, the Mountie tried to be
    out of the way - he turned and thrashed solely within the confines of
    the narrow bag, not even straining against the zipper. But the handsome
    face was pale and drawn taut with the ferocity of the nightmare and the
    soft moans that came from his mouth were heartrending. Ray's mouth went
    dry as the moans turned to words that seemed to rend themselves from
    Fraser's lips, "I'm sorry. Forgive me. Please! I'm so sorry. After me...
    Shouldn't have..." Ray was still debating whether or not to wake him
    when his friend shot up with a gasp. With a deep shuddering sigh, Benton
    leaned forward, resting his forehead against his palms as sweat dripped
    off the spiky ends of his hair. His breath came in rapid gasps and the
    moonlight shone off the puckered scar on his back. Fiercly, he pressed
    the heels of his palms to his eyes in a gesture Ray had seldom seen but
    knew signified the attempted repression of some great pain. "Fraser?"
    Ray offered tentatively. "Are you all right?" He felt stupid asking the
    question - it was obvious his friend was far from all right. "I'll be
    fine, thank you Ray." Fraser managed to gasp out as he struggled to get
    himself under control. "My apologies for waking you. It was just a nightmare."
    "Just a nightmare?" Exclaimed Ray. "Fraser, that looked like the grand
    mother pubaa of all nightmares!" Ray's passion elicited no response from
    the man on the floor. "Not really Ray." He rubbed his forehead, wincing
    when his hand glanced off the bruise. "How can you pass it off so easily?"
    Ray well remembered his nightmares from when he was younger; most had
    been so vicious that they'd left him shaking and unable to sleep for
    days. "It's not that difficult, Ray," Fraser said in a half sigh, "when
    you have them every night." The nightmare was too fresh to deny. "Every...
    Are you serious?" 
    "I think I would know." It was the closest Fraser would ever come to
    sarcasm. He shrugged, mad at himself for disturbing his friend, "I'll
    admit that one was worse than normal but then again... It was not a normal
    day." You can say that again. Ray thought. I think I've learned as much
    about you today as I have in all our time together as partners. "What's
    really going on here, Fraser?" No time like the present. "Whatever do
    you mean, Ray?" There was no way he was going to look up. "I mean, there's
    something you're not telling me." Finally, blue eyes turned up to look
    at him but Fraser's face was in shadow, he couldn't read the expression.
    "You aren't acting like yourself. There's something you've left out.
    Something that makes this case personal." "Three dead Mounties isn't
    enough?" Fraser asked quietly.
    "Not with you." Ray countered instantly. "If they were 'just' three Mounties
    you would be determined as all heck not..." He didn't want to say it.
    "There must be something more." Tell me. Talk about it. I've never seen
    you like this. I don't know what it could be. At this point, Fraser was
    sitting cross-legged on the floor and while Ray waited for a response,
    he leaned his head on his folded palms. "I didn't mean to leave you out
    Ray. I just..." He paused and swallowed the lump that sprung into his
    throat. His friend was right; he wasn't being fair to Ray. "Two months
    and seven years ago, it was uncovered by a conscientious reporter that
    Paul Granger was using stolen bank money from the United States to fund
    his political office. The reporter gathered evidence, then was found
    massacred in the woods before he could write the article. Supposedly
    a wolf attack. But the evidence was in his safety deposit box and when
    a member of the RCMP cleaned out the box to send to his kin, the evidence
    was found and placed under review. The Mountie's partner was away for
    a short time and so he was assigned a temporary partner and the two checked
    the evidence thoroughly. Granger was confronted and escaped the Mountie
    and his temporary partner, killing one bank guard in the process." Fraser's
    voice shuddered of its own violition and he had to pause before he could
    go on. The story had taken on a life of its own and an eerie heaviness
    hung in the air like lead gas. "With two Mounties on his tail and the
    rest of the RCMP being quickly alerted to his criminal activities and
    subsequent escape, Granger immediately took hostage a young mother and
    her two children, ages 4 and 8." His voice seemed to fade out for a moment
    as he mused, "They were beautiful children. She was a beautiful woman.
    Famous in the town for her long blond hair. Beautiful hair. A family
    trait." Fraser shook himself slightly to bring himself back to the narrative,
    "The four made it to a small barn where Granger slit the four year old's
    throat for being unable to stop crying. The eight-year-old girl was raped
    several times before her neck was broken and her body thrown atop her
    brother's. He decided to bed down for the night before moving out onto
    the ice fields the next day. That was a mistake. He had underestimated
    the skill of the Mounties tracking him. The two Mounties and the wolf
    who was with them found him around nightfall and, with backup on the
    way, decided to post themselves at either entrance of the great barn
    and wait him out - the Mountie on one side with the wolf and the new
    partner on the other, just barely in sight of each other. When more substantial
    reinforcements got there, they would move in. They dug small trenches
    for themselves and prepared to wait." Ray was almost shivering where
    he sat; Fraser's voice was magnetic, it drew one into the story, made
    them part of the story. And Ray's heart was thick with dread of what
    was to come next, having drawn his own conclusions as to identities in
    the story. "Just after they had finished digging in, Granger made his
    move. The Mounties and their wolf heard the woman's screams coming from
    inside the barn. Blood curdling screams. They went on and on for about
    ten minutes. Then the barn door opened slightly and the Mountie's partner
    saw something fly out the door of the barn and land in a mound on the
    thick coat of snow. The mound was too far away for him to tell what it
    was but he knew it had been thrown out for a reason. Thinking perhaps
    it might be Granger's list of conditions, the partner moved forward tentatively,
    keeping close to cover." Fraser's eyes seemed to glaze over slightly
    as Ray stared into them, seeing the scene exactly as it must have been.
    "There was no sound from the barn as he moved closer. The mound was fairly
    close to the barn, completely in the open. Granger had only had a knife
    at the bank so the partner reasoned it would be fairly safe even though
    the Mountie was shaking his head and waving at him to stop. The wolf
    was straining to go and stop him but the Mountie held him tight. So the
    partner moved closer and eventually reached the mound that had been tossed
    out the barn doors. He picked it up to examine it, noticing that the
    snow where it had lain was stained scarlet. As he turned it over in his
    hands he realized what it was - the woman's hair. It had been cut from
    her head along with her scalp." There was a long pause and Ray felt his
    stomach revolt against the picture but he didn't move or protest and
    Fraser continued. "When he realized what it was he held, the partner
    immediately dropped the scalp in horror but laughter could already be
    heard from in the barn. Hideous laughter. From the other side of the
    barn, the Mountie heard the laughter and let the wolf loose, hoping to
    avert the tragedy that he could sense in the air. But it was too late.
    Shots rang out and the partner fell. Apparently, Granger had found a
    sawed off shotgun in the barn. He fired three times, even after it was
    obvious the partner was fatally wounded. The Mountie watched the partner
    fall and sprang up from his ditch. He fired his full compliment of bullets
    at the small window from which the shotgun had fired. His aim was true
    and the bullets flew inside the barn. The world fell silent once more.
    Then the awful laughter could be heard once more and a body was thrown
    out the loft door. It was the woman, her bloody head visible from any
    distance." "She was still alive. Her moans and cried echoed through the
    fields. Unable to resist her plaintive cries, the Mountie ran forward
    to try and help her, the wolf following from several hundred feet behind.
    When he was still 50 yards away the woman gave one last choked cry and
    then lay limply on the snow dead. It was only when the Mountie got closer
    that he realized the truth - it had been his bullets that had cost the
    woman her life. Granger had used her as a human shield. Rage filled him;
    he couldn't fight it. And so the Mountie ran into the barn after Granger.
    The shotgun met him. He took a blast to the shoulder that disabled his
    arm but he didn't stop. The Mountie went on and knocked the shotgun out
    of Granger's hand; the wolf closed in from behind. But Granger dodged
    the Mountie's next punch, revealing to the Mountie what he had stood
    in front of - the children's bodies. The Mountie was paralyzed for a
    moment with horror. That moment would prove fatal. The wolf lunged to
    try and protect the Mountie, but Granger still had his knife and he threw
    it at the creature who was unable to dodge the flying dagger." "When
    the reinforcements arrived several hours later, Granger was gone. The
    wolf was lying bleeding on the floor, a trail of blood from where he
    had dragged himself. He'd been trying to get to the Mountie, or rather,"
    Fraser corrected himself dully, "what was left of the Mountie. Granger
    had apparently landed a dizzying punch on the Mountie's temple when the
    wolf arrived and while the Mountie was still dazed, he'd regained his
    shotgun. The Mountie had sustained a shotgun blast at close rang to the
    abdomen and then, even though the Mountie's death was already assured,
    Granger had finished him off with a shotgun blast to the face from roughly
    ten centimeters away. The damage to the body was so bad that when the
    Mountie's real partner - who had returned in time to join the reinforcements
    - was called to identify the body, he couldn't do it. They had to get
    dental records to confirm the identification." Fraser couldn't keep the
    tightness from his voice anymore. "The partner demanded the case and
    was given it. And set off to track Paul Granger over the ice fields."
    Ray's breath all but stopped as his mind connected two and two. "You
    were the partner." It was part statement, part question. Fraser closed
    his eyes and nodded. "Steve Goldeagle was my first partner. The only
    friend I had at the time. We'd met at Depot and worked together so well
    in training that they paired us up in the field. We had been together
    for six months and though we weren't like my father and Buck Frobisher,
    he was my partner. I had left Dief with him while I went to testify in
    another case we had solved up North. I came back to find Dief injured
    and Steve dead. There was no way I was going to let his killer go free."
    Fraser drew in another deep breath while Ray tried to assimilate the
    new information. The moonlight fled the room, chased by dark clouds as
    Fraser went on, his voice impossibly tighter, "I tracked him for a 37
    days over those ice fields. When I caught up to him, I was tired, hungry,
    and cold. But he was in worse shape. He hadn't planned on being chased
    into the ice fields. He had thought he would have been able to get to
    safety without pursuit at least for a while. When I brought him in, both
    pinkies on his hands had to be amputated as well as 4 of his toes. He
    suffered from severe hypothermia and dehydration. It was three weeks
    before they were able to try him." The waiting is always the worst. The
    thought floated through the confusion in Ray's mind. He didn't know what
    to say. But the story wasn't finished yet; Fraser went on. "I went to
    Steve's home, to tell his wife and children but she had already been
    informed. And she... she asked me... she asked me where I had been that
    I didn't help him or at least die with him. That, she said, would have
    been honorable." Face twisted in horror, Ray stared down but Fraser was
    still looking through him with those glassy eyes. There are two horrors,
    a memory of Fraser's voice echoed through Ray's mind, dying senselessly
    and living without honor. "She forbid me to come to his funeral and shut
    the door in my face. I tried to work but my superiors were 'doubtful'
    of my ability to return to work so soon after such a tragedy. Perhaps
    if I had had a partner, but there wasn't exactly a great line up to be
    my partner." "but it wasn't your fault." Ray didn't even recognize his
    own voice in the plaintive plea that escaped his lips. "The details were
    classified to ensure the 'people's faith in the RCMP'." Fraser explained.
    "So most of them, even in the RCMP, only got the facts. I was his partner;
    he was dead. That was enough for them. Eventually word got around but
    I didn't want another partner. Not until..." His voice trailed off and
    Ray felt a small warmth inside him as he realized it wasn't only the
    real Ray Vecchio that Fraser was thinking of. "And this time?" There
    was still something more missing.
    "When I took Granger in, he swore he would find me someday. Find me and
    make me pay for what I had done to him." Fraser stated simply. "Seven
    days ago, Granger escaped. They set up a dragnet and, figuring that would
    stop him, they declined to call me and tell me he'd escaped.  Five days
    ago, Granger killed a Mountie and left Steve's badge on the body, just
    to make sure I'd know it was him. The RCMP who investigated the case
    assumed it was the dead Mounties' badge and ignored it completely but
    it wasn't meant as a message for them. He wanted me to see it." It was
    the best he could do. "This guy's coming after you." Ray stated grimly.
    "Yes." Confirming it, though it was already clear in his eyes. "Oh my
    God." Realization sparked in his eyes; "I can't stay here Ray. If he
    comes... I'm sorry I didn't think. I don't want to make you a target
    as well. I have to leave. You've got to stay far away from me." "Too
    late Fraser." Ray interrupted. He'd been waiting for this. He knew Fraser
    would realize eventually and try to leave. "I am involved. And you're
    not leaving. It's not your fault this nutzoid is coming after you. I
    am not letting you handle this alone. We're partners. I'm gonna be here
    for you." "Ray," Fraser's voice was thick and his head bowed with the
    weight of guilt and sadness, "I can't lose another partner. I can't.
    I can't do that again. I don't want you to die because of me." Jaw jutted
    out in stubbornness, Ray insisted, "That wasn't your fault Fraser. None
    of this was your fault. And I'm not going to die. We'll get this guy.
    I gave you my word and I intend to keep it. You won't get rid of me that
    easily." Fraser's head was still bowed but he nodded, "It won't happen
    again." His voice got so low that Ray couldn't hear it, "I promise."
    
    "Let me get this straight, Detective." Lieutenant Welsh said, leaning
    back in his desk chair. "You want me to assign you to chase after some
    guy who may or may not be in Chicago who committed a robbery 20 years
    ago?" "Yes sir." Ray sagged against the chair across from the Lieutenant.
    Welsh looked him over carefully. Now Ray was no Detective Armani but
    he normally turned up decently dressed, now though, the detective looked
    downright slovenly. His blond hair stood in spikes on top of his head
    and there were dark circles underneath his eyes. "What's going on, Detective?
    You look like hell." Ray looked at Welsh with haggard green eyes; "Fraser
    needs me."
    "What?" Welsh had never heard him say it that way before. "The Mountie's
    got a case he needs help on?" For a moment, Ray just stared at him, the
    understatement of the question shocking him completely. Then Welsh's
    continued stare brought him to his senses, "uh... Sort of sir." Welsh
    raised his eyebrows, getting worried at the odd behavior. "He put this
    guy away seven years ago. Eight days ago, the guy escaped." Welsh was
    sitting straight up in his chair now. "And you two think this guy's headed
    here?" "Already here is more like it, Lt." Ray raked a hand through his
    hair. "He's coming after Fraser." Now Welsh was definitely worried. Though
    the Mountie wasn't officially one of his men, he thought of him that
    way. "So what's the Constable going to do?" "Ha." Ray laughed shortly.
    "He doesn't even seem to recognize the danger to himself. He just wants
    to bring this guy in. Badly. It's personal to him, Lt. Very personal."
    Ray looked out the window for a moment, recalling the glazed look in
    Fraser's eyes and his concern for Ray's safety. "He isn't thinking of
    any danger to himself. He's just thinking about how he has to get this
    guy. And the danger to those who know him." Welsh took a moment to absorb
    this information. "I'll give you the time Vecchio, but is there any legal
    reason so I can assign this as a real case? You don't got a whole lot
    of off time left." Ray gave him a humorless smile, "Thought of that Lt..
    This guy, Paul Granger, is a real winner. He has both a Canadian and
    American alias and wanted for crimes committed in both countries." Welsh
    nodded, "You've got the case." Ray sprang to his feet with a quick thank
    you. "And Ray," Welsh called. Green eyes looked back curiously, "Be careful.
    When the Mountie gets personal... be doubly careful." "No problem Lt."
    Ray gave a swift salute and ran from the office and out of the squad
    room. He had a friend to protect. 
    
    "How's it going, Constable?" Meg asked as she surveyed the man standing
    at attention before her desk. There were shadows under his eyes that
    she had never seen before and he looked quite frankly exhausted. "Not
    well, ma'am." He said wearily. "None of his old accomplices have heard
    from him or are likely to hear from him soon." "Is there anything I can
    do to help locate him?" Just barely she kept the tremble out of her voice.
    "I'm afraid not sir." Fraser responded. "Detective Vecchio is checking
    his informants as we speak. Hopefully he will be able to dig something
    up that we can use." "Detective Vecchio is helping you?" She wasn't sure
    whether to be relieved that someone was with him or hurt that it wasn't
    her by his side. "Yes ma'am. I told him of the danger but he refused
    to leave." There was a trace of warmth beneath the neutral voice. Ray
    would never know how much it meant to him. "Danger?" Her heart most certainly
    did not take a flying leap into her throat, that was an anatomical impossibility.
    "It appears," Fraser paused for a moment, knowing she couldn't possibly
    know much of what happened up North, "that Granger is after revenge."
    "Against you." Forget her heart in her throat, now it sank down to the
    floor. "Yes, ma'am." His voice was grim. "Which brings me to my request."
    "Constable?" Knuckles turned white as her hands gripped the arms of her
    chair. "I'm afraid I must be out of contact until this is solved." He
    stepped closer as she stood to protest. "There is no other choice. The
    danger to others is too great. I will not risk your safety." His voice
    shook with intensity. They were face to face and she could see it burning
    in his eyes. It was a statement, almost an order. There was still something
    more. "Your request?" The feeling could no longer be kept from her eyes
    and they glistened as she stared up at him. "It's partially of a personal
    nature..." he trailed off as he gazed into her beautiful fierce eyes.
    "I'm asking you... I'm begging you to be careful Meg." Her breath drew
    in sharply at her name and the tears that had misted her eyes threatened
    to overflow. "If he gets any idea of what you mean to me..." His finger
    touched wonderingly at a tear that escaped her. "I don't want to lose
    you too Meg. Please." The words were almost inaudible. She took a great
    gulp of air, forcing herself to nod. "I will be careful Ben. I promise."
    He nodded and sighed, relieved of a great burden. "Just..." her voice
    was very quiet; she was trying to remain strong, hold onto what dignity
    she had left, "Just please, you do the same." He nodded, still her silent
    soldier, and she was drowning in the chaotic swirls of his eyes. A warm
    callused palm lay against her cheek and she closed her eyes leaning into
    the touch. The contact was very brief, lasting only the shortest of all
    moments but she savored it. Then the warmth withdrew and when she opened
    her eyes, he was gone. 
    
    "You talk to her?" Ray asked as he met Fraser in the park like they'd
    agreed earlier. The police station was too risky. Fraser didn't want
    to lead Granger to all those innocent people. "Yes. She's agreed to be
    doubly careful and lay low until the danger has passed. I'm officially
    on my own." It was a great relief to him. 	"Welsh gave me the case so
    you've got me." Ray said with a crooked grin. 	"Thank you Ray." Fraser
    said, his voice harsh with emotion.
    	"It's no problem." Ray tossed it off calmly as the two went towards
    the GTO trying to act as though they were investigating any old case.
    "Your informants have any information?" Fraser asked, trying to remain
    calm, as he climbed into the passenger side of the GTO. 	"Well, I got
    his old hideout. An abandoned warehouse on Chesterton and South Street
    out on the pier. Nobody's rented it since he left apparently. There may
    still be something there. But nothing recent. I thought we could check
    it out. He may have gone back there. And I called up his mug shots and
    sent them around along with that picture you gave me from the Canadian
    files." I'm going to help you Fraser. I'm not going to let you do this
    alone. Not a chance. 	"I assume we are heading for the warehouse now?"
    Thank you Ray.
    	"Yup." Ray said as he swung a left.
    	"Than Ray," Fraser said, pursing his lips.
    	"Yes Fraser?" He would stay calm. He would not worry about his friend.
    "We're going in the wrong direction." 
    	Ray glanced around and blushed, "Oh yeah. Well we can fix that. Hold
    on." He swung the GTO around in a vicious U-turn as Fraser grasped the
    doorframe for dear life. "See, now we're going in the right direction."
    
    	"What do you think, Fraser?" Ray said as he crouched beside the dingy
    warehouse door. His gun was drawn and he clutched it tightly as Fraser
    tried to peek inside. 	"I think if we should split up. You take this
    entrance and I'll take the far one. It's unlikely that he's here of course
    but..." He crouched back down. 	"Yeah." Ray agreed, clicking the safety
    off his gun. "So wait five then go in?" 	Fraser nodded as he began to
    slide away. "Oh Ray." He said, turning back. Ray looked up in surprise.
    "Glasses." Sheepishly, Ray nodded, fumbling in his pocket for the glasses
    that helped him see well enough to shoot. Fraser nodded with a grim smile
    and disappeared around the corner. 	"Okay, wait five." Ray glanced down
    at his watch impatiently. He checked the clip in his 9mm Barreta - fifteen,
    that was right. He checked the barrel then clicked off the safety before
    looking at his watch again. "Four to go." His leg started tapping. "I
    hate waiting." Annoyed, he glanced down at his watch again, "Three! Ugh.
    I still hate waiting." The blond head starting bobbing to an inaudible
    rhythm as he kept glancing around as if he'd see something interesting.
    But nothing interesting made itself known and with a grimace, Ray glanced
    at his watch yet again, "Argh! Oh screw it. A minute is close enough."
    Gun at the ready, Ray crept up to the door. His kick rang out like a
    shot as the door slammed open and his voice echoed through the building,
    "Chicago PD! Freeze!" 	"No one's here, Ray." Fraser said from the other
    doorway as his sharp eyes glanced around the open warehouse. 	"How'd
    you know I'd come in early?" Ray asked sheepishly as he pocketed his
    gun. 	"You're my partner." Benton said simply as he walked further in,
    trying to see if there was anything to be found. There was a table in
    the center of the warehouse and while Ray checked out the perimeter,
    Benton headed towards it. As the contents of the table came into sight
    Benton felt vaguely faint. All over the table, spread out in random fashion
    were pictures - of Maggie and Ray. Some were burnt, others torn, suggestions
    of how to kill each written in red marker on each. Rage flashed into
    Benton's soul as he glanced over the pictures. His vision flashed red
    for a moment and if Granger had been standing before him right then,
    he would have killed him with his bare hands. 	"Hello Mountie." Benton
    started and whipped around as Granger's voice filled the warehouse. "What
    took you so long?" The door behind Benton slammed shut; Ray tried to
    reach the other one but it too slammed shut just before he reached it.
    Ray pushed on the door, kicked it, shot it, but it didn't budge. He locked
    eyes with Benton and shook his head; they weren't getting out that way.
    "Well, well," Granger's voice continued, echoing around the two. "It
    seems you saved me the trouble of going after your partner, Constable
    Fraser. You brought him right to me." 	Damn him. Ray thought as he glanced
    over at Fraser who looked suddenly sick. 	"You were partially right,
    Mountie." Granger's voice continued on in a sing song fashion. "Nobody's
    here. Only ghosts of the past. And a couple hundred sticks of dynamite
    underneath the building but hey, I suppose they don't count." Laughter
    came out of nowhere and Ray shivered viciously, Fraser hadn't been joking
    when he called that laughter horrible. "Well Mountie, I hope your new
    partner and you look forward to dying together. I'm off to see your boss
    lady. You two looked awful cozy this morning." Fraser went white with
    fury and his hands clenched into fists. "Well, I guess I'll leave you
    with that. Have a nice life, all ten minutes of it." There was a loud
    click as the loudspeaker went off. 	"Come on Fraser." Ray called as he
    kicked at the door again, "We've got to get out of here." 	I led Ray
    right into his trap. Benton thought in dismay as he ran over to his friend.
    Lips pressed tight into a white line, he lent his strength to his friend's
    as the two tried together to kick the door down. Two tries later Fraser
    stopped and put his hand on Ray's arm, "It's no use trying this way.
    Door's too thick. We'll have to find another way out." 	"Like what, Fraser?"
    Ray said sarcastically, waving his arm around. "There's not exactly a
    surplus of doors around here." 	"Then let's try a window." Ben said as
    he glanced around. "Nine minutes five seconds." He muttered under his
    breath. I'm not letting you die because of me. "There!" He said running
    over to the lakeside of the warehouse. There was a dirty window up about
    thirty feet. They hadn't noticed it before because it was so grimy and
    dirty it blended right in with the rest of the walls. 	"Fraser there's
    no way we can reach that!" Ray exclaimed as he followed his friend. 
    "Shoot the window then give me your gun." Fraser demanded as he grabbed
    some rope off the floor. 	"What?" Ray said incredulously.
    	"Shoot the window, then give me your gun." He repeated slowly as he
    threw his belt over his shoulder. With a suspicious look, Ray glanced
    up at the window, shook his head and fired three times. The two men covered
    their heads as the glass shattered. 	"Oh that was useful." Ray said sarcastically
    as he gingerly picked glass off his shoulders. 	"Gun." Fraser demanded
    holding out his hand, ignoring the glass on his shoulders and in his
    hair. 	"What are you doing?" His voice was less than trusting as he handed
    Fraser his gun. 	"Getting us out of here." Fraser quickly fastened the
    gun to the rope and started swinging it in a loop. 	"You've got to be
    kidding me." Ray said as he realized what Fraser was doing. 	"There's
    a small ledge just below the window. There must have been a second floor
    here once." Fraser said as he let the gun fly. It soared up and out,
    landing outside the window. The metallic bang as it hit the outside wall
    was strangely comforting to the men below. "It's pretty simple. Climb
    up to the ledge and jump out. The warehouse was built almost on the edge
    of the pier. There's all that nice water to land in." He pulled on the
    rope slowly, praying hard that it would latch onto something. 	Finally
    the rope wouldn't pull; the gun had latched itself on a board two feet
    down from the window. "All right." Fraser said, turning to Ray and handing
    him the black uniform gloves he had in his serge, "Put these on. They
    should help." 	"What about you?" I am NOT leaving you here. If you even
    suggest it... 	Fraser wrapped the belt tightly around his hands, "I'll
    go up after you go. The rope's not strong enough to handle both of us
    at once." 	Ray was going to protest but one look at Fraser's set face
    and he knew it was useless. Thrusting his hands into the gloves, cursing
    the while, Ray grabbed the rope. "I've always hated the rope climb. And
    I hate water." He muttered as he began to climb, going up the rope as
    fast as he could. 	"Five minutes." Fraser called as Ray paused for breath
    halfway up. That did it. Like he had sat on a cactus, Ray sped up the
    remaining rope and perched on the ledge. "Okay Fraser." He called down.
    "Come on up and join me." 	"Jump Ray." Fraser said as he grabbed onto
    the rope and started to climb. "Get out of here." 	"Not without you,
    partner." Ray said grimly. 
    	There was silence for a moment with no sound but the heavy breathing
    of the two men. "Three minutes." Fraser said; he was halfway up the rope.
    "Two and a half." he was three fourths of the way there. Sweat was beading
    on his forehead. His hand went up, he grasped the rope. 	"Come on Fraser."
    He heard Ray calling from the narrow ledge. 
    	"Two minutes." He tried to haul himself up but the strain was too much
    on the small rip that had held the gun down. Suddenly the rope and the
    wall behind it were a blur as gravity pulled him downward as the gun
    shot up. "Bindlestitch!!" Fraser exclaimed as the gun caught on another
    ledge, jerking his arms in their sockets. He was back at halfway. 	"Fraser!"
    Ray called. "You okay?"
    	"Get out of here Ray. There's only a minute and thirty nine seconds
    left." Fraser called as he started upward again. 	"Not without you."
    
    	"I'll be right behind you." He was back at three-fourths, muscles straining
    with the force of his climb. "Now go! Don't make me responsible for killing
    another partner!" Something in his voice convinced Ray, "Damn it Fraser,
    you better be right behind me." 	"I will be. Now jump!" Fraser yelled.
    He was almost there. "A minute 10." 	Still muttering, Ray leapt out the
    window. A moment later a loud splash and some equally loud curses told
    Fraser his friend was safely in the water. "Fifty three seconds." Fraser
    told himself as his hands grasped the ledge. With a groan, he hauled
    his torso onto the ledge. Some of the glass from his shoulders tinkled
    as it fell on the ledge. "Forty seconds." His back twinged and his arms
    almost gave out with the pain but Fraser flung a leg up to join his arms.
    "Twenty five seconds." He rolled the rest of his body onto the narrow
    ledge, just barely fitting when he lay sideways. "Eleven." 	The Constable
    sprang to his feet, his sleeve catching on a piece of ragged glass, "Seven."
    "Jump Fraser!!" Ray screamed from below.	
    	He tore the sleeve free. "Three!" Fraser sprang into the air. 
    	Time seemed to slow. Ray watched as his friend flew out into the air
    over the water and then paused in mid air, at the arc of his jump. Ray
    couldn't even begin to describe the relief he felt to see his friend.
    But time had run out. There was a great whoosh and Ray had to hide his
    face as the warehouse exploded into a fiery furnace. "Fraser!" He called
    before ducking his face into the water to protect it from the searing
    heat. 	There was a great splash somewhere to the right of him and Ray
    jerked his head up, trying to see through the huge smoke cloud. "Fraser?!
    Answer me!" No, no, no, no. Come on, Fraser. Don't drown on me. I can't
    swim that well. The bloom-close thing is the best I can do. "FRASER?!"
    How long has it been? Where is he? Ray splashed in a circle trying in
    vain to pierce the heavy layer of falling smoke and ash which was all
    that remained of the warehouse, dodging boards which plunked into the
    water like lead. A choked whisper came from his mouth as he treaded as
    best he could, "Fraser..." There was no response.  	Fraser had just started
    falling when the explosion had come. There had been no where to hide,
    nothing to shield him from the flame and the heat or the debris. The
    rush of heat came first. What Ray heard as a whoosh, Fraser felt as a
    blistering wind searing over him as he began to fall. His hat flew off,
    backwards into the inferno, and in an attempt to protect his head and
    body, Fraser tucked himself into a small ball, covering his head with
    his arms. A split second later and the tongues of fire were engulfing
    him. He felt the heat scorch him, knew too that his uniform ignited -
    he could feel the flames at his back. 	Debris shot around him. He heard
    the sizzle as flaming boards hit the cold water. Something struck his
    upper back and Fraser arched in pain... just in time for a falling board
    to glance off his head, striking the still glaring bruise on his forehead.
    Dazed, he was not ready when his body slapped the water with a huge splash.
    The coldness of the water heightened the disorientation he felt and though
    he tried to swim, his heavy serge and thick boots were hindering him.
    At least the water put out the flames, his confused brain managed to
    spout as Benton tried desperately to see where the surface was. He hadn't
    taken a deep breath; he couldn't last much longer. But the light was
    everywhere, throbbing behind his eyes. His arms and legs slowed, tired
    by the exertions, he was sinking. 	Ben. 
    	What in the world... Benton's thoughts trailed off in shock as he looked
    over to the left. Maggie? How can that be...? He was going to open his
    mouth to say hello but she placed her fingers over his lips. Time seemed
    to have stopped and the burning in his lungs faded into the background.
    Maggie smiled at him. Take my hand, Ben. Her voice was gentle in his
    head. With absolute trust Benton reached for her hand but his hand went
    right through hers. He looked down at his hand like it had betrayed him.
    Take my hand, Ben. She was farther back, he realized. 	Oh you missed,
    you idiot. Benton's fuzzy mind told him as he strained to reach her again.
    He didn't understand why they were floating but there was a great light
    shining behind Maggie and he wanted to be with his sister again. Once
    again he reached for her hand. And once again he seemed to miss and she
    was again out of his reach. Maggie's face was more urgent now, her beautiful
    blue eyes staring at him in dismay. Please Ben! Take my hand! 	Spurred
    on by the desperation in his sister's voice, Benton kicked frantically
    and reached out once more... to touch air. Maggie disappeared with a
    smile as the Constable burst through the surface of the cold water and
    took a great gulp of air. Water flew off of him and he heard his name
    shouted on the air but then the water was back, surrounding him, covering
    him. He wasn't going to make it. Finally his mind awoke, screaming one
    name, Meg! He's going after Meg! But there was nothing he could do. His
    mouth opened and the water rushed in, stealing what breath was left in
    his lungs. His still outstretched hand slipped back beneath the surface
    and the cold water froze his muscles. 	Then someone grabbed his wrist
    and hauled. Fraser felt himself surfacing once more and tried to take
    another great gulp of air but a fit of coughing overtook him. "Breathe
    Fraser!" Someone was saying as a strong arm locked around his chest,
    under his arms. "Just breathe." Clumsy legs, unaccustomed to supporting
    one much less two, accidentally kicked his calves but Fraser was working
    on getting the water out of his lungs so he could get some air back in.
    Finally the last of the water choked out and he heaved in a great lung-full
    of air. "Thank God." The person clutching to his torso was saying. "Fraser?
    You okay?" 	"Ray?" Fraser's voice was a little slurred and very ragged
    as he turned his head to look at his friend. 	"Yeah. You okay?" Ray was
    glancing at him worriedly, noticing that the bruise was darker and the
    whole area around it was swelling badly not to mention the slight trickle
    of blood from the hairline just above it. 	Fraser nodded slightly, pulling
    away from his friend's grasp; "I'm fine." Ray tried to protest Fraser
    moving away, he was worried about that bruise, but Fraser shook his head,
    "You can't support both of us Ray. Though I thank you for bringing me
    up." He forced his breathing to even out and half treaded, half floated
    a foot or two away from his friend. 	"Let's get to a dock." Ray said,
    glancing from the flaming ruins of the warehouse to their left to the
    beckoning dock on their right. "I hate water." He kicked hard a moment
    more and as he struggled off Fraser could hear him mutter, "bloom...
    close... kick em in the head... bloom... close... kick em in the head."
    Benton gave a short laugh but it sent agony through his head, so Fraser
    settled for swimming off behind his friend, glad there was something
    nearby for him to focus on because the rest of the world was swirling.
    It took them a good four minutes at their slow rate of swimming, but
    eventually the two hauled themselves up on the dock and lay there, just
    gasping in air and enjoying the solid feel of wood beneath them. Meg.
    The thought ran through Ben's mind again and he heard Granger's words
    echoing in his head: I'm off to see your boss lady. You two looked awful
    cozy this morning. 	"Meg." Benton moaned as he rolled over onto his side.
    	"What did you say?" Ray said as he looked over at his friend. His jaw
    dropped open, "Good Lord, Fraser, you look awful!" Before, Ray had been
    more concerned about keeping both of them above water; he hadn't looked
    much past his friend's head and collar. But now, with Fraser fighting
    to stand beside him, all the damage was clear. His dripping right sleeve
    was torn midway between his shoulder and his elbow and hung raggedly
    over a scrapped and burned arm, the back and sides of his soggy red serge
    were charred to black, his neck was pink above and around the collar,
    and the bruise was severely worse. 	"Have to help Meg." Fraser said as
    his attempt at walking turned into more of a sway. 	"God Fraser! Are
    you nuts?!" Ray shouted as he sprang to his feet. "You have to go to
    a hospital." 	Shaking his head, Benton tried walking again. But he couldn't
    seem to get both of his feet to cooperate and if it hadn't been for Ray's
    hand under his arm he might have done something truly disgraceful, like
    falling. Fraser tried to clear his head by shaking it; was Ray leading
    him somewhere? Ah, the GTO. Sitting was good. Fraser started to peel
    off the ruined serge jacket, thankful that he always wore a white shirt
    underneath. But there was something... "Meg!" Benton murmured, as he
    remembered. But Ray wasn't close enough to hear. 	Surveying the ruins
    of the warehouse, Ray took out the cell phone. Fraser concentrated hard;
    he had to hear what Ray was saying. "Yes we have an officer hurt. Chesterton
    and South. Tell them to look for the flaming rubble. We won't be hard
    to find." Shaking his head in disgust, Ray dialed another number. "Lt.?
    Vecchio here." 	Fraser tuned out, his brow furrowed. The Lieutenant was
    most definitely going to want to come down and keep them there to make
    a statement and explain. That would take too long. His head throbbed.
    Meg didn't have that much time! Ray glanced over at Fraser and Fraser
    stared back placidly until Ray turned back to his conversation. If I
    wait for the police, Meg will die. That decided it. Time had run out.
    "Yeah, I called an ambulance already." Ray stated calmly to the Lt. as
    he kicked at a smoldering board. "No, I'm fine. Wet but fine. It's for
    Fraser. Yeah, he took a pretty decent knock to the head the other day
    with that car chase..." Ray gave a humorless laugh, "I knew you wouldn't
    forget Lt. But it looks like he took another knock jumping out of the
    warehouse. He said he feels fine but he's kind of wobbly. I want a doc
    to look at him." Ray's voice was firm. He was prepared to fight with
    his friend. Fraser hated hospitals and didn't like going to doctor's
    much either, at least not when he was the patient. "Well the warehouse
    is pretty much rubble. Granger was ready and waiting for him..." Ray
    trailed off as he turned back to the GTO. There was no one in the passenger
    seat. 	"Fraser?" Ray called, wondering if his friend was sniffing something
    or other again. There were some noises from the phone but Ray jerked
    it up and spoke impatiently, "Hold on a second, Lt." He took a step closer
    to the black car and called out again, louder this time, "Fraser?!" Still
    no answer. Ray ran over to the car, fearing he'd find the Mountie collapsed
    on the ground, "FRASER!" No Canadian. "Damn!" Ray swore as he brought
    the cell phone up again, "Look Lt. I gotta go. Fraser's gone. He must
    have gone after Granger. I'll call you as soon as I can." He flipped
    the phone shut and dove into the driver's seat slamming his palm on the
    wheel. "Hang it all, Fraser!" The GTO tore out of the parking lot. 
    
    	"Thank you kindly." Fraser said slowly, making his words as clear as
    he could, as he got out of the cab about a block away from the Consulate.
    He handed the cabby a bundle of Canadian bills, not up to actually counting
    them. "That should cover it." 	"Hey buddy, you sure you're okay?" The
    cabby asked as he got another glimpse of the charred red serge that Fraser
    carried and the blackened sooty white shirt that he wore. 	Fraser gave
    him a tight smile, "Fine, thank you. Good day." The cabby pulled away,
    shaking his head, and Fraser looked warily down at the Consulate. There
    was a car parked in front that he didn't recognize and there was no sign
    of movement from Meg's window. That worried him. She was always there
    at this time of day, doing paperwork or sorting through diplomatic affairs.
    Even with her promise to be careful she would be there. The Consulate
    should not be so still. All right, Benton, the Mountie told himself,
    you've got to do something he isn't expecting. His head ached terribly
    but he forced himself to buckle down to it, What is he expecting? "He's
    expecting me to be dead." Fraser muttered to himself. Barring that. His
    mind echoed back. "He'd expect me to come in the front door. Enraged."
    So what are you going to do? Fraser thought for a moment. "I don't have
    a clue. That was the plan right there." 	He rounded the back of the Consulate.
    "The back door?" No, he would have planned for that too. "Should it worry
    me that I'm carrying on a conversation with myself?" Did it worry you
    when you started carrying on conversations with your father... after
    his death? "Good point." Now figure out a way in there. Margaret's in
    danger. He rounded the next corner and he could see the edge of her office
    window. And the window to his office... It was open! Somewhere fairly
    close by tires squealed loudly as a car rounded a corner at high speed.
    A determined smile flitted across Fraser's face. Now that he won't expect.
    
    	"Hello? Eh, anybody here?" The call caused Meg Thatcher to look up from
    the mound of paperwork with which she'd been busying herself. She'd tried
    to stay at her apartment but she couldn't do it. She needed to do something.
    The mountains of paperwork that the RCMP required seemed to be a good
    idea. Anything to keep her mind off him and the danger he was in. 	Checking
    quickly to make sure the gun she kept in her desk drawer was still there,
    she called out, "Yes? May I help you?" She set aside some of the paperwork
    and folded her hands in her lap. 	"Hello? Oh here you are!" A man of
    fifty something years old meandered into her office. His hair was greying
    around the sides and temples and his stomach was flat. He looked very...
    eerie was the only word Meg could think of.  	"I'm Inspector Thatcher.
    What can I do for you?" She looked up as pleasantly as she could. 	The
    man smiled at her and she shivered. There was something so... cold in
    his smile. It was like looking at a glacier. "Inspector Thatcher." The
    man seemed to roll her name around on his tongue and she couldn't help
    but inch her hand towards the drawer that held the small silver gun.
    "You had... excuse me, have a Constable Benton Fraser under your command,
    don't you?" 	"I do. Why are you asking?" Meg said coolly, trying to remain
    calm. Her hand was only inches away from the drawer. 	"Actually the asking
    was just a formality." The man said coldly as he whipped a gun out to
    point it at her heart. "Now keep your hands where I can see them, Inspector."
    "Granger." She said flatly as she laid her hands calmly on the desk.
    "You are stupider than I thought. He won't let you get away with this."
    She knew him too well. He would not give up. "Ah but Inspector," Granger
    smiled snakily, "I don't see how he can stop me. Considering that he's
    dead." 	"What?" She couldn't stop the blood from draining from her face.
    "Yes, I left him a little... present at my last hideout. Constable Benton
    Fraser and his new partner, that detective whatever his name was, are...
    well ashes by now." He sneered down at her, "Ashes to ashes..." 	Dead,
    no. God, no, please. He can't be dead. He doesn't know. I never told
    him... She thought she was going to be sick. 	"Ah," said Granger, watching
    carefully her reaction, "So I was right. And I get the pleasure of killing
    his... love. How delicious! Eradicating all he held dear!" He trained
    the gun very carefully on her, "Get up Inspector." Meg didn't move; she
    didn't even seem to hear him. "I said get up!" Dully, Meg stood and came
    around the desk at the waving of his gun. Granger looked her over and
    licked his lips, looking for all the world like a rabid wolf licking
    his chops. "The Mountie did have good taste, have to give him that. I
    think we may have to have some fun before you die." 	He got no reaction
    only a dull horror filled her. She couldn't believe it, couldn't get
    past it. Suddenly, a loud crash sounded from the office next door. Granger
    jumped. "It couldn't be," he muttered. Granger's gun at her neck, he
    prodded Meg forward towards the door of her office and she walked slowly
    towards it, like a mechanical doll. 	In the doorway Granger shoved his
    gun into Meg's ribs and nodded towards the closed door to the left, "What's
    behind that door?" 	Still in shock and truly not comprehending a thing,
    Meg spoke dimly, "His office." 	How did he survive? Granger thought taking
    a step backwards into Meg's office. Nervously, he stepped backwards once
    more, putting a space between him and Meg though he still held the gun
    pointed at her. 	Now. The figure that had been waiting outside the room
    thought. A great crash of huge panels of glass shattering resounded through
    the room as Constable Benton Fraser dove through the bay window that
    sat behind Meg's desk. He hit the floor and rolled, coming up on his
    feet right behind Meg's desk. 	Shock and horror were painted on Granger's
    face as he whipped around with his gun to train it on the man whose death
    he'd been dreaming of for so long. Meg turned as well, her eyes frozen
    until she laid eyes on the man behind her desk. "Benton!" She whispered
    with joy and tears rushing into her voice and molten brown eyes. 	"Mountie,"
    Granger exclaimed with a chuckle, "You look awful."
    	Benton Fraser stood tall behind the desk. His hair was mussed; the cut
    at his hairline was trickling a small line of blood down his set face
    and the bruise with its swelling glared out like a dark badge. What was
    left of the white shirt, now embedded with a thousand shards of glass,
    hung raggedly off him, the torn shoulder now joined by several smaller
    rips in the torso of the shirt. Still dark and heavy because of the water
    they were still carrying, his boots crunched pieces of glass as he shifted
    his weight. The pink burns on his neck and arm brought tears to Meg's
    eyes and a twisted sense of satisfaction to Granger's. But when Benton
    finally spoke he said only three words, "Let her go." And his voice was
    so low and so filled with barely contained fury that Meg thought for
    a moment that Granger was going to do it on the strength of that alone.
    Because for some reason, even in his dilapidated and damaged state, she
    had never seen the Mountie looking as dangerous and deadly as he did
    right then. 	The gun wavered for a second but then Granger's face hardened
    in scorn, "I think you're missing something here Mountie. I'm the one
    with the gun. What do you have?" 	"A partner." Fraser said without hesitating.
    Suddenly, the front door to the Consulate flew open, crashing against
    the wall and Granger was frozen in shock as another dead man burst through
    the door. "Chicago PD!" Ray almost screamed as he trained his Barreta
    on Granger. "FREEZE!" 	"You have no jurisdiction here cop!" Granger yelled
    at him, again pointing the gun towards Meg, who was still staring behind
    him. "This is Canadian soil! You can't fire that gun here!" 	"But I can."
    A voice of ice, not dimmed by the slight slur, resounded from behind
    him and Granger felt his black heart sink in his chest. Betrayal in his
    eyes, Granger flew around. The Constable was only about fifteen feet
    from him now, Meg's silver pistol pointed straight at his heart. And
    Granger knew the Mountie wouldn't miss. 	"You can't shoot me." Granger
    exclaimed. "You're a Mountie! There's that code of yours to remember!"
    His hideous laughter rang out in the room until Benton moved a finger
    and cut off the laughter with the slow solemn click of the safety being
    taken off. "What?!" Granger exclaimed. He's really going to do it. His
    survival instinct surfaced once more and Granger reached out to grab
    the Inspector but Meg was out of his reach, having moved while he was
    distracted to where she could watch the whole tableaux without being
    a variable. Desperate, Granger tried to aim for the cop, his partner,
    but the cop had lowered his gun and was watching from behind one of the
    solid walnut walls that framed the hallway to the Consulate. 	"Didn't
    you realize what happens when you threaten everything a man holds dear?"
    Benton's voice was still glacier hard and Granger's eyes locked on his
    gun as Benton continued slowly, "You make him into the most dangerous
    thing alive - a man with nothing to lose." Granger's eyes bulged and
    his neck turned purple. With a vicious toss and a victorious smile, he
    let the gun fall from his hand. He could always come back another time
    and finish out his revenge. "What about your precious honor, Mountie?!
    What will that say of you if you shoot me now?! An unarmed man!" But
    Granger hadn't looked into Fraser's eyes until then, the fury and hatred
    he saw there was overwhelming. From where they watched, Ray and Meg started
    as the thought ran through there minds, No, Fraser, Ben, don't! Face
    straining with the effort of holding the fury and rage in, Benton spoke
    again and his voice was harsh and heavy with the emotions raging inside
    them, though his words kept the same slow intensity, "You murder my sister,
    you try to kill my partner and the woman I love, and you expect me to
    let you live?!" Ray and Meg couldn't move; they couldn't even gasp as
    his words penetrated their consciousness. Their minds stopped altogether
    and they could only watch events unfold before them. Granger stared agape
    at the Mountie as the man stepped forward, his rage almost a tangible
    thing around him. "Your sister... partner... love..." Granger murmured
    as he realized his mistake. He had underestimated the Mountie badly.
    If he'd gone after Fraser directly, leaving his loved ones unharmed,
    then he could have done it. He could have killed him. But by going after
    the ones he loved he had burned the bridges behind him. "Yes my sister."
    Benton almost spat at the man. "Remember? You ran her through five times
    with a fireplace poker. Did you honestly expect..." He trailed off, shaking
    with the intensity of the emotions within him. But the gun never wavered.
    Too far. Granger realized suddenly. The Mountie was going to kill him
    and no one would really blame him, not after what he'd done. It had been
    a mistake to kill them. There was only so much a man would take, could
    take, before he fights back and the Mountie was definitely past his edge.
    Granger was afraid. For the first time in his life he knew real fear.
    This Mountie held his life in his hands and there was nothing he could
    do. The silver barrel was trained on him; the other Mountie and the cop
    would be no help. Slowly, deliberately, Benton trained the barrel of
    the silver pistol and Granger knew the Mountie would not miss. He was
    a dead man, and that terrified him. Granger couldn't help himself from
    shaking, though he hated himself for it. The Mountie was like Nemesis
    incarnate with impassive rage straining at his features and eyes like
    the torrent after the spring thaw. "Please." Granger whimpered. Time
    seemed to stop; it had no meaning for the three whose very lives were
    in the hands of the trembling Mountie. Ray watched from his corner, he
    knew what he would do no matter what Fraser decided. Fraser had to decide
    on his own and whatever happened, Ray would back him. If he shot Granger
    here and now, Ray would help him, testify that the man had pushed Fraser
    until there was no choice. But there was a dread inside him. If Fraser
    pulled the trigger, if the Mountie shot down even a man such as Granger,
    then he would cease to be the man Ray had known and come to care for
    a great deal. In a way, Ray's life depended on the choice he made. It's
    his decision. Meg thought on the other side of the room, her mind reminding
    her mind of what her heart had decided. She would stick by him no matter
    what. And in truth, she wouldn't blame him if he killed Granger. It had
    been obvious how very close Benton had been with his sister. Her death
    would have been an almost paralyzing blow to him. She didn't know how
    he'd kept functioning. Benton stared down the barrel of the silver gun,
    knowing that though his sight was clouding his aim would be true. If
    he fired Granger would die. And Maggie would be avenged. His head was
    swirling with thoughts and images - Maggie when he'd first seen her walking
    into the Consulate as green as he had once been, the pictures of her
    body collapsed on the floor covered with her own blood, impaled on her
    own fireplace poker, pictures of Gerard, his father's body on the gurney,
    his mother's grave, Ray Vecchio's face as he lay bent over Irene's grave
    while Benny watched from afar... The arguments that his brain was marshalling
    couldn't get through the fog that seemed to be settling over him. His
    instincts screamed at him to shoot, shoot now before Granger risked someone
    else he loved. But he is unarmed, reason argued, piercing the haze. And
    if you arrest him? He'll just come back. And maybe this time he'll finish
    what he started, kill Meg and Ray. Can you live with that? Benton's jaw
    ground against his teeth, muscles on his neck straining as his mind argued
    against itself. Granger trembled before him, tears of fear and weakness
    showing. Benton's pained eyes stared down at him and the Mountie swayed
    where he stood, the gun wavering for a moment. Granger's breath sucked
    in, I knew he couldn't do it! But the gun swung back up before the thought
    even finished and it trained itself on Granger's forehead. "All you've
    done..." Benton's words were obviously slurred but still understandable.
    "You don't deserve to live." Meg and Ray felt their hearts sink in their
    chests. God forgive him. Meg thought, closing her eyes so she wouldn't
    have to watch. Ray's hands grasped onto the edge of the mahogany wall
    so tightly his knuckles turned white and he squeezed his hazel eyes shut.
    Benton's eyes were ice. Granger pleaded, "no. No. NO!" The gunshot echoed
    in the room. Unable to avoid it, Ray opened his eyes slowly, his heart
    dull in his chest. His mouth went slack as he gaped at Granger, who was
    clutching his ear in shock. There was blood streaming from where the
    bullet had taken a large nick out of Granger's ear but there was no fatal
    damage. Benton lowered the gun slowly, "But that decision is not mine
    to make. Paul Granger, alias Bert McDonnell, you are under arrest." A
    smile spread over Ray's face as he came out from the mahogany partition
    and walked towards his friend. Benton looked over at him, the agony lessened.
    "She wouldn't have wanted it." The tightness in his voice had miraculously
    dwindled. Meg came forward and took the cuffs Vecchio offered her, slapping
    one on Granger's wrist and the other to the post of her heavy oak desk.
    "Constable..." she murmured, extremely conscious of Ray standing to her
    left. "Good job." She ended lamely, departing swiftly to call the police.
    "Thank you Inspector." Benton said slowly, trying desperately to keep
    the slur from his voice. A trembling hand held up the gun and Ray took
    it from him and laid it on the table, "Fraser? You okay?" Fraser looked
    at him for a moment and blinked slowly. "Fine, Ray." His words were thick,
    almost beyond understanding. "Fraser?" Ray's brow furrowed and worry
    flooded his eyes.
    "Just fine." Fraser forced out before crumpling.
    "Fraser!" Ray shouted as he lunged forward, just barely catching his
    friend. Awkwardly, Ray sat on the ground, Fraser's head in his lap. "Inspector!"
    he screamed, "Call an ambulance!" He rocked slightly, holding Fraser's
    head firmly. "Call an ambulance!!" 
    
    "Really, Ray," Fraser protested as Ray half walked, half carried him
    into Ray's apartment. But his words were still slurred and he winced
    when his bandaged arm hit the side of the bed. "You don't have to do
    this. I would be fine at my apartment." "This isn't open for discussion,
    Constable." Meg said as she joined the two men. The sternness in her
    voice was belied by the gentle smile she gave Benton; "The doctor left
    orders to wake you up every couple of hours. That's a bad concussion
    you've got. And as the director asked me to personally escort Granger
    up to Toronto for trial, Detective Vecchio has been so kind." "Like I
    would have let him go anywhere else." Ray scoffed good-naturedly as he
    took the drug store bag she was carrying from her. "But I'm an inconvenience
    to him." Fraser protested further, trying to sit up in the bed. "He'll
    have to sleep on the couch." "Lay down, Benton." Meg said firmly. Fraser
    fell back against the pillows. She took his hand and he relaxed like
    he'd been given a tranquilizer. "The detective will be perfectly fine.
    He's a smart man. I'm sure he'll figure something out." "Not to mention
    your kind Inspector here was nice enough to loan me a comfy cot for the
    next couple of nights." Ray grinned wryly as he pointed to the already
    set up cot. Smart man? Fraser wondered. Kind Inspector? Either this concussion
    is affecting me more than I thought or these two are the ones who need
    the hospital. "Are you two feeling all right?" He asked wobbly, staring
    up at them with concern. "Fine, Constable." Meg said, still holding firmly
    onto his hand. "We just came to an... understanding." "Oh?" Benton said
    falling backwards. The pain pill must be taking effect. He thought as
    he fought with his eyelids to stay open. "Yeah, Fraser." Ray said with
    a smile, "We just realized we have something in common." "What's that?"
    His words were slurred; he was losing the battle. "Go to sleep, Ben."
    Meg said gently laying a soft kiss on his cheek. "We'll talk when I return."
    It would seem I'm dreaming already. Benton thought hazily and then he
    could fight no longer and fell to the blackness of sleep. Watching him
    and the panoply of emotions that played across the sleeping man's face,
    Meg couldn't help but compare it to the day before in the hospital while
    they were still waiting for him to wake up. 
    
    Meg had watched him for a little bit as he slept, lying there on the
    bed like a little boy with his hair all rumpled and dark lashes making
    smudges on his pale cheeks. "It's not fair." She muttered under her breath,
    caressing his cheek. "I can't and you're too scared." "Why can't you?"
    Ray's voice echoed from behind her. Meg started; she'd forgotten he was
    there, perched in a chair like he had been since they'd brought Fraser
    in. She looked back at him blankly and he repeated calmly as he stood,
    "Why can't you?" "Why can't I what?" she tried but he stared at her solidly
    with that hawk like mien and she knew it was useless. "I'm his superior
    officer. Ottawa frowns on relations between superiors and their subordinates."
    Ray's voice was full of constrained fury, "In the past several days that
    subordinate has damn near died more than once, Inspector! Then what?
    What would Ottawa give you then as compensation for all they made you
    miss?" "What am I supposed to say, Detective?" Meg cried. "Your desk
    or mine?" The fury abated and Ray smiled slightly, "I was thinking more
    of 'would you like to go to dinner' but whatever works for you." "Why
    are you trying so hard, Detective?" Meg said wearily. She'd been through
    more pain in these past few days than he could see and it wasn't easy
    for her to talk about this. It wasn't easy at all. Ray looked down at
    Fraser for a moment, gathering his thoughts, "Because he cares for you.
    For whatever reason he loves you. And Fraser deserves love for once."
    Indignation boiled up in Meg to cover the pain and joy that lit through
    her, "So what, Detective? Do I get no say in this? Just because he cares
    for me I'm supposed to drop everything and be with him regardless of
    how I feel?" "Don't play that game with me!" Ray snapped, moving dangerously
    close to her. "You may be able to fool him but you can't fool me. I've
    seen how you look at each other. I was there when you came into the office
    and saw him unconscious. I was with you in the ambulance. Don't you dare
    try to lie to me!" She couldn't say anything. He was right. Even if she
    could have said a word, he wouldn't have given her a chance; Ray kept
    on going. "He doesn't deserve what you're doing to him! He's in love
    with you! He doesn't just like you, or care for you, or even anything
    so tame as has feelings for you. He is in LOVE with you. You've been
    screwing around with his heart and he deserves better." "I don't know
    what you're talking about it." She hadn't been able to look him in the
    eyes. He looked at her incredulously for a moment, then began to pace
    in front of the narrow hospital bed as he spoke in a steely tone, "All
    right then Inspector. We'll play your way. As best I can gather, some
    time back, like around that nuclear incident with Vecchio, you two actually
    got around to giving some hint of how you feel for each other. Some very
    large, very clear, undeniable hint. You avoided the subject for a bit
    but then you," he looked at her with green eyes as hard as emeralds,
    "and I am 100% positive it was you, did something along the lines of
    telling him nothing could happen." He could tell by her face that he
    was right. "I'm not sure what your rational was behind that idiotic move
    but it was probably something along the lines of you were terrified of
    the feelings, or maybe you've been hurt before, but most probably it
    was something along the lines of you didn't want him to feel pressured
    into a relationship because of a moment of romance in an intense situation."
    Again, she stared at him, agape at the depth of his insight. "But don't
    you realize?" Ray's voice was rising in intensity. "In trying not to
    pressure him, you pressured him not to FEEL! And locked him into this
    emotional hell which he can't get out of because of you! So yes, he's
    afraid! He has every damn right to be. Love has eluded him, betrayed
    him, left him for dead. But he was willing to get past that! He was willing
    to try again with you! But you had to go and ruin it. So now it's up
    to you Inspector. Either make your move or let him know there's no chance,
    but don't leave him hanging like this, in this emotional limbo. And if
    you lose what's between you, if he won't risk it after being hurt so
    much, then you have no one to blame but yourself." Eventually he ran
    out of the intensity that fueled him, looking at his friend's still form
    did that to him. "Oh Lord." Meg whispered as she sagged into one of the
    hospital's vinyl chairs. She hadn't thought of that. She hadn't considered
    what her thoughtless words would do. A moan from the bed made her start
    and spring to his side, "Benton?" Ray glanced down at the bed, at the
    man's taut and drawn face, and realized what was happening. "He's not
    awake, Inspector." His voice was hoarse and he looked away, unable to
    watch again the pain his friend endured. "What?" She leaned closer to
    him as anther moan escaped the Mountie's lips but Ray was right, his
    eyes were still shut. "I don't understand." Ray leaned his forehead against
    the window, knowing there was nothing he could do. The doctors had ordered
    specifically that the Mountie be left alone until he woke naturally;
    he couldn't wake his friend to save him from the night. "He has nightmares,
    Inspector." "What?" Meg repeated dully, turning to glance at Ray's back.
    "Come now," Ray's voice was weary now; he didn't know if he could stand
    the sight of his friend's pain again. "Surely you've had nightmares before?"
    "But... I don't understand."
    Ray spoke very slowly like she was a child, "He... has... night... mares.
    Every night." "But why?" She sounded so very young.
    "You've got to be kidding me." Ray barked. "In his lifetime, he's been
    abandoned emotionally and physically for all intents and purposes by
    his father, seen his home burn down twice, fell in love only to arrest
    her the first time and be betrayed by her the second, found and lost
    a sister, lost one partner to a brutal murderer, grown to be a brother
    to another partner only to lose him, been shot in the back by his best
    friend, and fallen in love with another woman only to have her eternally
    put at a distance to him just close enough to tease him with what he
    could never have. And that's not even getting down to specific events
    that he blames himself for. Why do you think he has nightmares?" Meg
    backed away for a moment at the vehemence in his voice. "I... I... didn't
    know." Ray didn't say the words but she heard them echo in her head,
    You should have. Shaken beyond words, Meg kneeled beside the hospital
    bed and took the limp hand in her own. Time passed endlessly as Fraser
    moaned and tossed upon the starched bed. And then, to Ray's immense surprise,
    she started to sing, ever so softly, "We're gonna ride forever. You can't
    keep horsemen in a cage. Should the angels call, well it's only then,
    we might pull in the reins." She kept on singing softly and Ray settled
    into a chair with the slightest of smiles. The Inspector looked almost
    beautiful there and the song she sang was so fitting to Fraser that Ray
    couldn't help but think that he'd been too hard on her. But the most
    amazing thing of all happened then. As Meg sang on, holding tightly to
    the hand of the man she loved, Benton's thrashing quieted. The heart
    shattering moans quieted and then ceased and he lay there still, his
    tormented face smoothing into passivity. "Amazing." Ray whispered as
    Meg's voice faded to silence. The silence stretched on for long minutes
    as Ray gathered his courage. "Inspector." He said, a touch of hoarseness
    in his voice. Her brown eyes looked up and met hazel ones and Ray fought
    back a wince from the sight of the tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't
    mean to come down so harsh." "I didn't expect anything less. You're his
    friend." She gave him a watery smile. "Ohmm." Two sets of eyes jerked
    to the bed and Ray near flung himself to the opposite side as Meg. He
    grasped Fraser's other hand tightly as his friend's eyes flickered. Come
    on buddy. He shouted inside, just barely holding onto the restraint that
    kept him from shaking his friend awake. Two slits of icy clear blue flickered
    into existence and Ray heard Meg gasp from across the bed. But he didn't
    really care. He just held tightly to the limp hand in his. The slits
    of eyes flickered over him and Ray thought he saw the faintest of smiles
    grace Fraser's lips and the hand in his squeezed back. It was weak but
    Ray could feel it and it made his hazel eyes light up with joy. Then
    the blue eyes shifted as drops of wetness fell onto Benton's left hand.
    Benton tried feebly to lift his hand in wonder, to wipe away her tears
    but he was too tired. His eyes asked the question for him and she smiled
    through her tears. He tried to speak but she shushed him, lifting his
    limp hand to her lips. The piercing blue gaze returned to Ray and Ray
    understood the question therein. Is this a dream? The grin on Ray's craggy
    face impossibly widened and his voice rang with tones of joy as he said,
    "About time you joined us, partner." The confusion in Fraser's eyes turned
    to disbelief as he glanced back at the Inspector and Meg knew she had
    to say something. "Next time," Meg started, choking on her own words,
    "next time, you tell me everything. No more making me worry like that...
    Ben." The disbelief turned to joy and he wanted to say something, but
    the exhaustion still had him strong in its grip and his eyes flickered.
    Shades of fear and a touch of desperation sprang into his eyes as he
    realized he was fighting a losing battle against the darkness. "It's
    okay, Ben." Meg said, recognizing his distress. "I'll be here when you
    wake." Still there was a shadow of fear in Benton's blue eyes when they
    turned onto Ray and Ray hastened to reassure him. "I'm not going anywhere
    either buddy. Not a chance." He understood the Mountie's fear - last
    time he'd looked away, he'd lost his best friend. The indomitable Mountie
    could fight no longer - the blue eyes closed. And Benton slept. 
    
    Daylight was streaming in from somewhere, painful against the closed
    eyelids. Benton heard a ragged moan and realized vaguely that it came
    from him. "Benny?" The voice came from somewhere to the left of him and
    he heard the whoosh of curtains as the light dimmed. "Ray?" Ben forced
    his eyes to open. Grinning hazel eyes hovered above him. It was most
    definitely Ray. "Are you feeling okay? Need anything?" 
    "You've done more than enough." Ben said as he pushed himself to a sitting
    position. "How long have I been asleep?" "Two days. Give or take." Ray
    swung himself into a chair. "You should eat." One of Fraser's eyebrows
    lifted and he asked wryly, "Are you cooking?" "No." Ray said pointedly,
    though the smile didn't fade. "I had Huey bring by some food from the
    club. Trust me, it's safe." Fraser grinned back at him though the smile
    faded after a moment. His blue eyes shifted to the wall. "She was all
    the family I had left." Though his voice was steady in its softness,
    Ray knew that it was taking a great deal of strength to keep it that
    way. Ray didn't need to ask who Fraser was talking about. His own smile
    faded into nothingness as he looked at his friend. Fraser pressed the
    heels of his palms against the low brow of his forehead; a repression
    of great pain, Ray well knew. "No, Fraser." He laid a hand on his friend's
    shoulder and squeezed. "You still have a family. Ma Vecchio thinks of
    you as another son, Maria and Tony consider you a brother, the Vecchio
    kids are sure you're their uncle, even Frannie thinks of you as a brother
    now that she's gotten over that crush. And there's Vecchio." Ray winced
    slightly as Fraser flinched, "I know he considers you a brother." Fraser
    looked up at him and Ray could almost see the words floating in his eyes,
    He left. "He'll be back. And I know he didn't want to leave." Ray's voice
    was firm. "And there's Lt. Welsh. We both know he thinks of you as one
    of his men. And there's the Inspector. She's in love with you." Fraser
    licked his lips and Ray could see the unsuriety in his eyes. "She does
    love you, Fraser. She'll tell you so herself when she gets back." Hazel
    eyes bored straight into Fraser's soul and Ray struggled to keep his
    own voice level, "And there's me." Oh God Ray, I'm sorry. I didn't mean
    to sound... "I know, Ray. And you are a brother to me. I'm sorry. It's
    just..." "It's all right, Fraser." Ray said with a smile. "I know." And
    he did. Fraser swung his legs over the side of the bed. "I'm sorry I
    didn't tell you about Maggie. I know you were interested in her. But..."
    "Fraser stop apologizing." Ray said as he helped his friend stand. "You
    were hurting. It's not your fault. I know you. Keeping it in was the
    only way you were going to keep functioning. I don't blame you for that."
    The two made it into the kitchen and Ray helped Fraser into a chair.
    "I should change that bandage." Ray said with a quirky smile, gesturing
    to Fraser's arm. Fraser watched with a musing expression on his face
    as Ray carefully unwrapped the bandage from his burned arm. "Ray, could
    you do me another favor?" Fraser asked as Ray finished tucking in the
    edge of the new bandage a minute later. "Sure, Fraser. Anything." Ray
    was shocked. Fraser almost never came right out and asked for favors.
    "Well, Turnbull should be picking Dief up in about an hour. Could you
    swing by the Consulate and pick him up? Or drop me off there?" "Don't
    even think about it, Fraser." Ray said with a laugh as he pushed his
    friend back into the chair. "I will go get Dief and bring him here. If
    you move even two steps from this apartment Thatcher will kill me. And
    I'll kill you." Fraser gave Ray an answering grin. "So you stay put.
    I kinda like my head where it is." "All right. All right." Fraser said
    with as much a laugh as his bruised ribs would allow. "I promise I'll
    stay put." "And be good." Ray commanded as he threw on his jacket. 
    "I'll try." The completely sincere expression on Fraser's face made Ray
    laugh even more as he sauntered towards the door. "Hey Fraser, that reminds
    me." Ray said as he stopped suddenly and looked to his friend. "How did
    you know about the Grinder?" Fraser turned scarlet and started to pull
    at the neck of the shirt Ray had lent him. "Well you see, it all started
    with the Canadian ambassador's daughter... I was asked to entertain her
    but she had other ideas. And..." He was getting flustered again. And
    Ray was looking at him with one blond eyebrow raised in sheer amusement.
    Fraser licked his lips twice, then gave up and said feebly, "Don't forget
    to get some of his food while you're at the Consulate, please Ray." He
    could hear Ray's laughter echoing until long after the GTO had speed
    away. 
    
    	"What are you doing out of bed, Benton?" Meg's voice rang out in the
    small apartment and Benton jerked up from the book he was reading. 	"Just...
    reading Insp... Meg." Fraser fumbled as he fought to decide whether to
    stand and risk her wrath or stay put. "I didn't know you were due back
    today." His words tumbled over themselves. Clumsy hands dropped the book
    they were trying to close, then dropped it again when he tried to replace
    it on the table. Finally, with a definite thunk, Fraser got the book
    settled on the table and turned to the Inspector with placid face, "So
    how was your trip?" 	Meg couldn't help herself. She burst out laughing.
    "It was very... uneventful, Ben." She said between laughs. 	Fraser looked
    at her, a look on his face a mix of curiosity and hurt. "Oh no, Benton."
    Meg said as she saw his face, forcing herself to choke down the laughter.
    "I'm not laughing at you. It's just I must have imagined what you would
    say at least a hundred times since I left and somehow 'how was your trip?'
    never made it into the scenarios." 	Fraser blushed. "Well... I... um..."
    He hated this. There was only one other person who could do this to him
    and that person was, quite frankly, dead. The door cracked open but neither
    occupant noticed. 	Meg shook her dark head. It seemed she was going to
    have to do all the work. "Ben, there's something I need to tell you.
    I... well, do you remember on the train... I know I told you to forget
    but..." Ben's blue eyes flashed intensely; he remembered that well, "I
    told you that, well that it could never happen again... I was your superior...
    Ottawa... I was trying to keep you from feeling pressured." She blurted
    out suddenly. "I didn't want you to feel that just because I was your
    superior officer that you had to return any affection I might have for
    you. I didn't want... I was trying to keep the pressure off you." She
    took a deep breath. "I realize now that I handled it very badly. I didn't
    think... I didn't think. And it created a misunderstanding between us...
    I wanted... I felt that same..." 	Just tell him already! Ray thought
    exasperatedly as he and Dief watched the scene through the partially
    open door. He hadn't thought he would come back to intrude on such a
    happening and the look on his face was one of relish. 	Meg was blushing
    scarlet now and her brown eyes were nearing despair. She didn't know
    how to do things like this; she'd never been good at it. And Fraser was
    still staring at her, his face like carved stone. 	But then Benton was
    moving towards her and she saw emotion surging through his eyes, and
    muscles tightened at his jaw, betraying the depths of feeling within
    him. "Red suits you, Meg." His voice was deep and husky and she felt
    her heart race wildly in her chest. It seemed to her everyone on the
    earth must hear it at that moment, with its painful beats against her
    chest. 	She laid her hand over her heart half in embarrassment, "I never
    thought it could beat so fast." 	He laid one of his strong hands over
    hers then brought her hand slowly over to where she could feel his heart
    beating, "Out of control." 	"A runaway." She whispered back, drowning
    in the emotions blaring out of his eyes. Then suddenly his eyes were
    coming closer, drawing her in and giving himself to her all at once.
    And she tilted her head up, her eyes closing, I love you. And then his
    lips were on hers and there was no thinking, no words could be formed
    to float through her brain. There was only him - his arms holding her
    tightly to him, almost crushing in their strength; his hand tangling
    itself in her hair; his lips plundering hers with the strength of all
    the feeling in his heart; his strong body the only thing keeping her
    upright as waves of passion and love left her suddenly weak in the knees.
    Hazel eyes widened in awe and Ray drew back from the door, "wow." He
    had never seen such passion, such feeling from the two Mounties. 	After
    an endless eternity, the two drew apart slightly and Meg gasped for breath.
    Limp with relief and feeling, she leaned her head against his chest,
    "I love you Benton." She felt more than heard the sharp intake of breath
    and looked up worriedly, "What? What did I say?" 	His eyes were ever
    so clear, welling with tears as he looked down at her with ages of surpressed
    love on his face. A trembling hand reached up and caressed her face,
    "No one..." he swallowed hard, "No one has ever said that to me before.
    I've never heard the words." His voice was very small and she could feel
    him tremble in her arms. 	"Oh Benton." A few of the tears that she had
    been just barely held back spilled over and she spoke fervently, "I will
    tell you every day for the rest of eternity. I love you. I will never
    let you go again." Strong thumbs wiped the tears off her cheeks and his
    lips pressed against hers again. Then he was just holding her, holding
    her as tightly as she held him, and burying his face in her hair. 	"I
    love you, Meg. I will always love you." She felt a drop on her hair and
    knew that tears of his own were escaping. But that was all right. This
    time they were tears of joy. 
    
    	"Come on Dief." Ray said as the two drew away from the door. "Let's
    go get a donut." He started towards the stairs whistling with a happy
    skip in his step. 	But the wolf didn't move from the door and turned
    his furry head towards Ray to whine. 	"No." Ray said firmly as he came
    back to grab the wolf firmly by the neck. "You cannot stay and watch.
    Not unless you want the Inspector to turn you into a hat or a rug or
    something." Tail falling between his legs, Dief went willingly with the
    cop. "I thought not. Besides, since when have you turned down a free
    donut?" The wolf gave a happy little bark and followed it up with a series
    of yips. Suddenly Ray stopped in his tracks. He looked down at the wolf,
    staring at it for a long moment. Then he threw his hands up in the air,
    "Great! Now I'm having conversations with a deaf wolf!!! It's catching!"
    Diefenbaker whined and chased after Ray as Ray hopped into the GTO muttering,
    "Wonderful. Next thing you know I'll have this insatiable urge to taste
    some dirt!" 
    
    Finita
    
    


End file.
